Are we there yet?

Has it really been two weeks since I posted? Ooops. Well, it’s once again That Time of the Year — sort of like That Time of the Month, only on a grander scale and with the men indulging in PMS behaviour. Yes, I refer to fiscal year end, that annual occurrence when people with jobs in finance entertain thoughts of ditching it all and running off to a remote tropical island resort. Or, you know, resorting to homicide.

Maybe I’m mellowing with age, but my thoughts this year have been less violent and more along the lines of let’s all just get through this without bloodshed so I can take a couple days off to recover my sanity.

Still, it’s a bit difficult to sit patiently through lengthy thrice-a-week phone calls from the owner — explaining to me how important it is (to him) to get all the year end wrap-up done quickly — without pointing out how much work I could have gotten done during all that time he just wasted telling me what I already know. Or without mentioning that since they downsized our clerical staff, I’m doing double duty even before all the tax reporting and tying up of loose ends and tracking down missing information that the sales people neglected to provide.

I just gently hang up the phone and give thanks that he works in a different state and get back to doing the work that needs to be done. I hardly even swear.

Really, I’ve been quite calm. I’m sure you all would be proud. Shocked even. But all that patience (and hard work) takes a toll by the end of these longer workdays. So I’ve been a bit absent here. And elsewhere. No worries, it will all get done eventually and I’ll get back to normal. Probably.

Besides, I’m not even sure where I’d find a remote tropical island. Or how I’d get there. Nonono, don’t tell me. I’ve got a job to do.

In the meantime, I think I want some of whatever they gave these two:

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8 Comments

Filed under health and well-being, miscellaneous bits

8 responses to “Are we there yet?

  1. Now That’s Just Strange.

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  2. It’s tax time for me, so I’m looking under couches and behind the TV for all those important tax documents I must have to complete my task.

    Really, I need a better fiing system.

    And you want what they gave the dog and cat?

    Simple, super-glue your feet to the bathtub. After exhausting yourself from the futile strugging, a warm spritz feels good. That must be it because I never saw either of them move their feet so that’s got to be how it was done. Or, you know, Rompun ( a very effective horse tranquilizer…)

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  3. And make a note, that’s FILING system…

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  4. Um, I meant something to make work less stressful. I just can’t see gluing myself to my office chair.

    I’m searching for tax receipts at home too. My filing system is more like a fling system. I always start the year with such good intentions. Really, how tough is it to put all the receipts into the big envelope labelled “2009 Tax Stuff.” [sigh]

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  5. McB

    I’m pretty sure that cat has been seriously sedated. As a rule they don’t even like puddles, except for the dirty ones they find to drink out of instead of the nice, fresh daily bowl of filtered water their minions provide.

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  6. I kinda like the idea of a fiing system. Sounds like some kind of offshoot of the Wii, which lets you throw paperwork around virtually and then you get to watch it sort itself neatly and miraculously into the appropriate piles which then get taken away and dealt with by tiny little elves.
    Well, it sounded good to me.

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  7. CGI fiing system… I like it. Quick, somebody run and patent that baby, we’ll be rich!!! RICH! I say…

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  8. Ah yes, the Disney filing system:

    “It’ll do magic believe it or not
    bibbidi-bobbidi-boo”

    Sign me up.

    A friend of mine in FL had a blind cat that LOVED water. She’d take the darn thing to the swimming pool and the cat would float around with her (with a bit of support). My cat runs out of the kitchen every time I turn on the faucet. And then there’s The Wonder Dog who only likes water when it’s his choice. Never seen a dog object so strenuously to a bath — yet he’ll dash enthusiastically into any body of water larger than a tablespoon, including his water bowl.

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