Grossed Out and Exhausted

Let's talk first about why I am exhausted - The Joy of Tax.

Tonight I attended a 2.5 hour workshop hosted by the Freelancers Union (of which I am a member, and learned that I can write off the membership fees for) on taxes for freelancers. Immediately after work I headed all the way, way downtown to a building on Water Street where I then sat in a conference room and listened to people asking questions that even my tax ignorant ass knew had already been asked. The entire time I tried to grasp the accromnym and tax form number heavy information being offered, so I could "Maximize my knowledge in order to minimize my frustration" like the lecture promised. What I think happened instead is I slightly increased my knowledge and maximized my paranoia about what a pain in the rear this looming tax season is going to be.

And the grossed out part . . .

One of the cutest things about Francine is that she has been an only-dog long enough, that she plays with herself. Give her a ball or a stuffed toy, and she will hop around, shake it about and toss it up and try to catch it again to her little hearts desire. When we are out on dog walks at night we have taken to bringing a ball and playing fetch with her on the soccer field, but every night, when we first toss the ball for her, the fetch session is almost always preceeded by some highly enthusiastic, solitary playtime.

Tonight however, after we threw the ball to France and she joyously hopped around the field shaking the ball in her mouth and tossing it up to bounce after it again, she dropped it and trotted off towards something else that had caught her interest. From the distance we saw her hopping around and crouching down, tail wagging, like she had found a new plaything. She does this sometimes when she is first to spot a stick just right for throwing or a ball that was left by someone else. I said to Brad, "Look she's playing with something" and we walked over to inspect her finding. - Now get ready, here comes the gross part- It wasn't a stick, like I thought when I saw her pick the object up and shake it around, it was the dead body of a mouse.

Yuck.