The joy of taxes

Wow, I've never had such a non-problem filing my taxes before this year. For the first time, I have purchased income-tax software. For 2005. (And for, uh, 2004 too... But it's okay!!! They owe me!) Now I just have to wait for this 2004 return to be processed so I can continue with 2005.

In the past, nothing could transform me into a blubbering pile of jelly worse than doing my taxes. I vividly remember the year I had had three jobs, leftover tuition claims, charity receipts, investments and employment insurance claims to tabulate into what was hopefully going to be refund. (I think in the end it was even.) I wound up sitting on the futon in my voluminous bathrobe, wanting to tear all my receipts to shreds along with my hair, while I sobbed about how f*cking confusing the whole thing was and why didn't I just sell everything I had and buy a tiny island and live there Survivor-style away from the rest of the planet where taxes didn't matter. So my hubby took over for me, the darlingest sweetheart-peach-pie that ever was.

But you've gotta love QuickTax. It's so stupidly easy. No need to calculate at all. It's all done for you. I had a minor problem trying to figure out when hubby and I became common-law, but left it out in the end since we weren't common-law in 2004 anyway. Oh, and the fire alarm went off while I was on the phone with the QuickTax people, but that wasn't my fault. Damn annoying, though, when a wicked A sharp that is slightly flat is piercing your eardrums while you're talking to someone who's getting more freaked out the longer the alarm goes on and is urging me to leave the building. ( I assured her it was probably not a real fire alarm; as it turns out, the alarm went silent about two minutes after I hung up.)

Here's to wondrous tax-eriffic technology and to a refund that is going directly to a honeymoon savings fund!

Stupid water

Water main break just outside our building... no water means no shower. Lucky we have an aquarium and therefore a big bucket of tap water to use. The fish can survive a few more days without a cleaning. Also lucky that there's still water in the toilet (or was when we left for work this morning), and a brand new bottle of hand sanitizer.

Current update from City of Toronto says it's going to take the better part of the day to dig up the 24" main. Radio report from this morning freaked me out by saying, "Repairs could take a long time."

Short memory

It's amazing, isn't it, what short memories we have, especially when we're sick. You long for the days when you weren't [fill in the blank], and yet can barely remember what is was like to not be [whatever it was you suffered from in the previous blank].

Although I have recovered from my cough, the medications have left lasting effects on my poor body with which I will not bore you. Let's just say I'm not at my best and I don't want to talk about it.

I can't even remember what it was like to not be [my own blank - I said I wasn't going to talk about it!].

Crazy instructions

My fiancé recently purchased a brand-spanking new watch that has a radio transistor that connects to the Atomic Clock In Fort Collins Somewhere In America. He delights in telling me each day at what time the watch "acquires the signal", which takes place anytime between 11PM and 4AM each morning. It will automatically update the watch if it's behind by even a few microseconds, display the date, and update for Daylight Savings. Only three buttons on the thing. Very schmancy.

It comes with a detailed instruction manual in English, French and Spanish. On page 24, it tells you you can manually adjust the date and time (presumably if you are in an area where you cannot "acquire the signal"). It also has this warning:

• If you become confused and lose your way during the following procedures, simply put the watch down and do not perform any button for about three minutes. This will cause the watch to enter Timekeeping Mode (indicated by the normal one-second movement of the second hand) automatically. After that, you can try performing the manual setting procedure from the beginning.

I mean, can you get any more obvious? Of course you put the watch down. Unless you're like me and you get so frustrated you throw it across the room, but that's not going to help things, now, is it? (I didn't throw anything, by the way, I'm just saying what would have happened if I had gotten confused and frustrated.)

Got a kick out of that, thought I'd share.

P.S. Belated happy birthday to my friend who hopefully received her e-card today!

Mmm...Codeine...

So I'm nicely medicated now, taking industrial-strength cough syrup that the pharmacy warns me has addictive properties. I'm on antibiotics too. I wonder how many times I've been on antibiotics in my life. I easily remember a handful of ear infections as a child, with the yummy pink or yellow creamy syrup that I almost couldn't wait to take.

I can talk properly now, with only a little hoarseness. I'm still coughing a little bit, mostly when I change position (lying down to sitting up, for example) or if I haven't had a drink in a while.

See, the thing with codeine, they tell you, is that it makes you constipated. Well, I assume it does that through ridiculously intense dehydration (which halts proper bowel function, is my guess), because I have drunk more liquid in the last two days than I think in the last week combined. I'm not a big drinker; ask any of my friends. The only thing I can usually consume in copious amounts is tonic water or grapefruit juice. But in the past 48 hours I feel like I've drunk about a million little cups of water. And lemonade. And more water. I need to bring my own mug in to work, I think. Oh, and I need to eat some lentils or something.

On the plus side, I can now kiss my wonderfully supportive fiancé without worrying that I'm going to cough in his ear or accidentally blow snot onto his neck. And I can sleep. Underrated commodity, that. Wonderful, glorious sleep.