It's 'That' Time of the Year...

I suspect based on the image appearing above you can guess why I'm late posting today. (No, a hot male-type didn't keep me up all night...unless you count Mr. Coffee.) I'm making my way through that delightful sojourn known as tax filing preparation. And this year it ain't pretty.

Typically, I'm semi-organized--somewhere between hanging file folders with printed labels and shoe boxes crammed with receipts and designated 'Tax Stuff'. I do have a hanging file system. I just haven't filed anything since July.

With my tax appointment this Saturday afternoon, you can imagine how much fun I'm having--and how much fun I am to be around this week. I just got back from picking up pharmacy and prescription print outs--along with a used loveseat. Loveseat? Ah, let me explain.

You see, Sunday I had a brainstorm. (My children have other, less complimentary words for this particular lightbulb moment, but we won't go there.) Anyway, I woke up grumpy because we had four inches of snow to shovel. Most of you know I like snow about as much as, well, doing my taxes. I go out and shovel and while I'm shoveling, I'm thinking. Yes, I've been told I at my most lethal when I'm using my cognitive abilities.

I have a problem. (Don't even think it.) I'm just not putting in the 'home office' hours writing I need to be. You see, winters are always bad for me in terms of productivity. I tend to want to join the bear population and hibernate. And as I'm pondering a solution to my winter writing doldrums, I decide that perhaps a change of writing environment is just the thing. Since I can't afford Southern California or Florida, I have to be creative here.

My office, being on the northeast side of the house, is notoriously the coldest room in the house. I have to wear those gloves with the fingers cut out to type on the computer. (Okay, so perhaps this is a slight exaggeration.) My bedroom, on the other hand, has great big windows on the south that let in oodles of nice, warm sunshine--when the sun is shining, that is. It's also somewhat larger than my office. So I figure, since I spend so little time in my bedroom (another sigh) and most of that time I'm wearing flannel (more sighs) why not pull a little switcharoo.

When we come in from shoveing I announce my inspired plan to the two kids still unfortunate enough to be at home.

"I'm moving my office into my bedroom," I announce. They give each other the 'what is she up to now' look.

I explain my rationale. Now they look downright scared.

"I'm excited about this project," I say. "How about you, guys? Are you on board?"

"That depends," my cheeky son said.

"On what?" I asked.

"On whether we have the option of abandoning ship," he said.

Nice.

So, with full knowledge aforethought that I should really be working on taxes, I started moving the office furniture into the living room. Then, with the help of my reluctant 'crew' I began to transfer my bedroom furniture into the former office. By late afternoon, I was ready to begin the process of moving the office furniture into my former bedroom.

By this time my mates had taken their leaves (it's the first time I've seen my son leave for work early) and I was left to my own devices.

You can see how this is gonna end, can't you?

I manage to do okay with the book cases, desk, and filing cabinets. But when I get to the large (and heavy) work table, the difficulties begin. The bloody thing simply will not fit through the door. I'd forgotten that my bedroom has a wall on both sides of the door whereas the office only had a wall on one side. In other words, no freakin' way was that table going through that door in one piece.

I get my tool box out. (I can tell you're cringing right about now.) I select the approprite sized wrench and decide to remove one set of legs. Now, this table is not a traditional table. It's entirely made of wood, with two square wooden sections the size of a small tree trunk attached to the table top and cross pieces on the bottom. With the assistance of WD-40 and sheer brute force I manage to loosen the nuts from the bolts (8 in all) and remove one of these leg sections. I then proceed to move the table into the new office.

Then it came time to reassemble the leg.

Now, I knew it had to fit back on there, because it came off there not five minutes earlier, but do you think I could get it back togeher?

It took me another hour, a balpeen hammer, and some harsh words to get that chunk of wood back on and the nuts tightened up. I arrange the furniture just so. By this time, it's nearing eleven P.M. so I call it a night.

The next morning I get up and mosey into my 'new' office. I open the curtains to let the sun shine in and bask in the warm rays. I turn on the computer, sit down, and instantly go blind. The sun is directly in my face. I not only can't see the computer screen, I can't see anything period.

Chalk up another blond moment for me.

This morning, in addition to running tax errands, I stop in at the local thrift shop and find the 'perfect' used loveseat for the corner of my office. It's presently wedged in the back of the Jimmy. My kids will be thrilled when they get home this evening and find out they get to help bring it in.

And now, dear friends, without further ado, I must return to my receipts, my print outs, my calculator, and Excel and leave it to another time to ponder the complex question of why I am so over-the-top OCD lately.

(And if anyone mentions menopause, I'll hunt you down.)

Since I will, no doubt, require regular breaks today, chime in with what's new with you. How are things in your world? Are you done with taxes? Putting them off until the last minute. (Sadly, not an option when you have kids filing for financial aid.) Have you seen a great movie lately you can recommend? I have a feeling come Saturday evening, I'll be in the mood for something light and comedic in tone.

With tons of buttered popcorn, Coke, and M&Ms!

~Bullet Hole Bacus~