And the Heels win it!
Okay, so it wasn’t pretty. And we threw up a LOT of airballs, at least it seemed that way to me. But we did win, at Cameron. Again. So sweet. It almost made me like February. Almost.
Also a big deal? The fact that I stayed up for the whole game. Considering I usually go to bed these days around 10 at the latest, this was a major accomplishment. When it was over, they immediately cut to footage of the students flooding Franklin Street, while I went to put on my pajamas. Ah, yes. Times have changed.
Meanwhile, today I am going to try and tackle another not so fun thing about February: my taxes. Right now, they consist of a haphazard pile of receipts, forms, bank statements and questionable possible deductions, sitting on my desk. I swear, just LOOKING at them puts me into instant procrastination mode. It’s like the energy, chi, life force, whatever, just seeps out of me. “Tomorrow,” I say, each time I pass by. “I’ll deal with them tomorrow.” But now it’s been a lot of tomorrows, and the truth is I just need to buckle down and just get them together, try to somehow get them organized (can you deduct lipgloss? if you bought it for bookstore appearances?) and then take them to my accountant. But I swear my mind just goes blank whenever I try to do this. I think I have a mental block against adult-esque things like this. It’s the same reason I can’t ever remember what my health insurance covers, or our mortgage rate. Ask me and my brain just goes PFFFT. Meanwhile, I CAN tell you the major biographical details of every cast member from Friends, detail what Britney Spears did last week, and recap the last season of Six Feet Under, episode by episode. If only I could deduct the time I put into these endeavors, my taxes would be a cakewalk. But alas, no.
Oh, well. Heels still won! Hooray!