Procrastinate. Cuss. Repeat.

Well, well, well, here it is – 14 April, “Tax Day Eve.” And for the umpteenth consecutive year in a row, my taxes are NOT done. Universe willing, I should be able to find the piece of paper I need to get to my accountant by tomorrow so he can file all the forms for me electronically before midnight. Ugh. Why, oh why (again)? Every year, it’s the same story…box-of-receipts

I think I know what the receipt is – actually, it is a something-99 form (I clearly see it in my head on the corner of my Beloved’s desk). Sadly, I need to know where it is – it’s NOT there now so I have to figure out where I “put-it-so-I’d-know-where-to-find-it-when-I-needed-it.”

I could punch myself in the face sometimes.

The thing that is particularly troubling to me is that EVERY year, Tax Day is the same day – yet, EVERY year, I am in the “FINAL 24,” trying to get my crap all pulled-together and get it filed. It makes me feel embarrassed, like I am some sort of disorganized knucklehead. I suppose if I am being honest, I always put this task off because I HATE it. I do that with lots of other tasks, too – put them off because I dislike doing them – things like: dusting, electronic bill paying, Comet-ing the bath tubs, you know, all those fun chores that we are required to do as adults but do so only under the greatest protest.

i_hate_days_like_thisAs in years past, it will somehow all come together – it may be 9:49P tomorrow night, but it WILL all come together. It’s just that days and moments like these remind me that, despite being an adult decades into life, inside I am just a little kid, kicking at the dirt and saying “I don’t wanna’.”

I don’t wanna’ be an adult but it seems that is really not an option for me now. Off for more “pile searching.” Wish me luck.

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