I’ve been sick all week. Maybe a cold, sinus problems, allergies or a combination of all three. I’ve used an entire box of tissues, Nyquil, Dayquil and Sudafed attempting to eradicate this malady which includes a constant headache, inability to breath through my nose, persistent itching in my ear canals and violent sneezing. It started as a dry cough that made my chest ache, then moved to my throat and from there took up tenacious residence in my head. About mid-week, after the sore throat went away, I got cramps. Yep, the garden variety, monthly kind that make me oh-so-glad-to-be-a-woman-of-childbearing-age. From that point on every violent sneeze has had me running to the w.c. to check to see that I haven’t, ummm…, ‘popped my cork’ as Mel puts it. I’m sure some of you can empathize. This is not fun.
Since I wasn’t exactly bedridden I did go to work all week. Two big projects kept me miserably busy – configuring a new server and having new office furniture delivered. In the meantime, my regular ‘to do’ list got longer. I’ll have that and a trashed office to look forward to for next week. Oh, boy!
I’ve also been slogging through a project at home every evening this week. Taxes. Yes, I’ve waited until nearly the last minute. Again. Somehow, I managed to blow off six months of Quicken entries, doing god knows what. I’m not irresponsible – I paid my bills and have the records – they’re just not in any coherent order that would allow me to prepare my taxes in an expedient fashion. So, I’ve been reconstructing my recent financial past, listening to Quicken’s “cha-ching” all week, and am now ready for Kiplinger’s help in actual tax preparation. An arduous process, as I try to make sense of income from two jobs, unemployment and freelance work, as well as receipts and expenses for two rental properties. Cha-ching.
While working on the finances, I made a horrifying discovery. Due to a mathematical error on my part, I managed to overpay my contractor friend Rob for work he did for me at the end last year. If it were a hundred bucks or so, I would have let it slide. It wasn’t. I goofed to the tune of 450 dollars. I agonized for two days over having to tell him that he owed me money or time. Finally, I asked Rob to come to my house today, saying that I needed to talk to him and reminding him that he still hadn’t met the puppy. (Babies can be such a nice distraction.) I really didn’t expect him to be mad or argue about it. He himself doesn’t keep any records and I could substantiate the error. We’re pretty close friends, so I just wanted to tell him in person because I felt really bad and was embarrassed about having made the mistake. As I predicted, he was fine with it but joked that he would’ve taken the puppy for payment if the situation were reversed. Hah, not a chance!
When Rob was leaving he said, “I don’t know how to feel now.”
“Why, what do you mean? Are you relieved?” I asked.
“I guess. It’s just that I couldn’t imagine why you needed to talk to me. All kinds of things were running through my head… I thought maybe you were going to tell me you were pregnant.”
I nearly fell over. Really, the dogs and the bird are enough.