More about death and taxes, with a note on sainthood

If last night was a 1040 hellhole, today, New York tax law proved to be the hatchet that came crashing down on my withered and shriveled form, hunched over papers and open applications, screaming to no one in particular that it was just not fair to expose one suffering soul to the atrocities written by vermin parading as tax code experts. May rodents gnaw at their heels and vultures swoop down and peck off their slimy typing fingers. May they squirm in helplessness, may they feel the trauma of having absolutely no control over what happens next.

I admit, these were not kind words.

For reasons known only to divine beings, none of them friends of mine, I am sitting filling out not only Wisconsin tax forms (easy!) but also New York ones. Even as a scrawny little non-resident, I have had to wade through oceans of papers worksheets and forms. I am spent.

And I also had a seminar to teach.

I am back from class now, and I have gained some perspective. True, the work for tonight is elephantine indeed and there may not be the hours to accommodate it all, but still, there were positive aspects to this day:

What brilliantly glorious weather (can we notch up the thermometer a bit tomorrow?)! I cannot believe how beautiful it is. Drop-dead gorgeous!

Then there was Jessica (her real name, though hereafter you may refer to her as Ste. Jessica). My note to you:

Dear Jessica,

Was it the uncontrollable pain in my voice over the phone that tipped you off? Was it the spiritual decline that you sensed was taking place in my home over the past 24 hours? Whatever made you do it, know that I am grateful. That you should fly down in the middle of the day from campus, deliver into my hands a calculator AND a hot cup of skim latte is beyond-words wonderful. Thank you. I will recover and someday repay this kindness.

May I also offer a piece of advice? If H&R Block ever calls and asks to have your business, give it to them.

xxNina