Is that even a word? I'm not sure, but it fits. Because I am very, very a'feared right now.
No, a mama grizzly bear protecting her cubs is not on the verge of attacking. (I know. Too much Deer Hunter; the 2005 Season)
No, I am not out of Starbucks French Roast. And I am going in for more tomorrow anyway.
No, the writers are not going on strike again.(Why, did you hear something?) Even if they did, this is American Idol season, AND America's Next Top Model Cycle 10 just started last week, so I don't really care. (please, don't judge or harass. This is good television, people.)
And no, I am not following a semi-truck with his left turn signal on and my wind shield wipers are stuck on at a high level though it is not raining. (not sure where I got THAT from,
Ang.)
What has my blood freezing and a scream trying to emerge from the back of my throat is.....The 2007 Tax Season.
I really can hardly bear to type the words. You don't know what this does to me. I am in a constant state of anxiety and jumpiness with a rash that comes and goes if the words "profit and loss" cross my mind. Oh my word, I literally just broke into a cold sweat and I am not kidding.
Get an accountant, you might advise.
Oh, I have one. And I am STILL a'feared.
I am not afraid of having to owe some money. That happens sometimes. (Although I DO have some good stories, let me tell ya) I understand that.
What I don't understand are the "English" phrases that the IRS allegedly uses when attempting to communicate new tax laws. Oh, who am I kidding? Any tax laws, new or old. I don't understand any of them. My thought process starts to freeze up when I begin working on the taxes and it is as though I am trying to get my brain to function while it's submerged in quick sand. My breathing becomes as shallow as an episode of ANTM, cycle 9. (Extremely shallow cycle.) All I can do is stare with a completely blank look on my face. (No, that IS NOT the same expression I always wear, thank you very much.)
My accountant asks me questions that I simply cannot answer. He'll say something like "This rule does not apply to personal property you acquire for resale if your average annual gross receipts (or those of your predecessor) for the preceding 3 tax years are not more than $10 million. Does this apply to you?"
All I can do is smile and nod, trying to look thoughtful as I ask him, "I'm not really sure. Hmmm. I'll have to give that some consideration and consult my notes. (more like a Safeway shopping list from November.)
But along those same lines that does make me think; did you happen to hear David Archuletta sing "Imagine" on Idol last night? Seriously, it gave me goosebumps, and I don't even like that song."
So, my goose is cooked. I have to traverse through the perils of the 2007 tax season trying not to look and sound as stoopid as I feel. I'll muddle through (doesn't that phrase inspire loads of confidence?) somehow with Rod bringing me comforting bowls of Hot and Sour soup or Subway sandwiches.
Maybe my choice of television viewing has something to do with the the deterioration of my brain function?
Naw!
But I really wish all I had to face was the charging mama grizzly bear.
Oh, Eric? If you are reading this, give me a call and let me know who your accountant is. I think mine is getting tired of me. I'm not sure why.
e flat screen and eating Jelly-Belly candy like there's no tomorrow. But not the popcorn flavored ones because those are as gross as Peanut-Butter Cap'n Crunch. Sorry, Cap'n. 
legs like a canine gymnast and swings his back legs forward so he can scratch the itch on his doggy nether regions. On the new carpet. Which I am dousing with 
legs like a canine gymnast and swings his back legs forward so he can scratch the itch on his doggy nether regions. On the new carpet. Which I am dousing with 
