I was going to write tonight about my new shoes that make me smile and why they make me smile and how I’ve always worn Chuck Taylor’s since I was a child and since I still have child sized feet, I feel lucky that I can wear the children’s Chuck Taylor’s because I think they’re actually cooler than the adult versions.
I was going to make some snarky remarks about how Chuck Taylor’s, especially these Chuck Taylor’s, are the hippy girl’s equivalent to Carrie Bradshaw’s Manolo Blahniks. I was all prepared to tell you all about how when I was in boarding school I would call my Nana on the phone and beg her to please go to the local shoe shop and purchase me two pairs of Chuck Taylor’s, one purple and one black, so that I could wear two different colored shoes to school and how my Nana used to love to tell the story of how she did just exactly that and how the shoe salesman found it quite odd that a woman her age was purchasing Chuck Taylor’s, in two colors no less.
But then NakedDave called from our accountant’s office with the news that we owe $8000 to the IRS this year for our taxes. And I started to feel nauseous and I even did throw up. We don’t have $8000 just hanging about in our bank account to send to the IRS this week. We would, but a certain company that I did some marketing consulting work for decided that they would rather declare bankruptcy than pay me the money that they owe me and even the one check that they did give me bounced like a basketball because the “owner” decided to withdraw all the money from the checking account since he decided it was his.
And I wouldn’t even mind paying all that money to the IRS if I had an actual SAY in how it was going to be spent. Like on universal health care, or more money for the arts or perhaps better salaries for teachers and improved schools. But I have no say at all and it kills me that some huge percentage of that money is going to the WAR ON TERRORISM effort. I didn’t sign the approval line for that expenditure! Shouldn’t I get a say how my hard earned dollars are spent?
And to make matters even more interesting, NakedDave may be looking for a new job soon. Like tomorrow.
It’s a horrible, no good, very bad day. I’ve been throwing up from the stress.
I think I’ll just go to bed.
P.S. A heartfelt and grateful thank you to all of you who wrote about my doula post. Births are magical miracles. I am blessed and lucky to get to share in them and would be even more blessed, happy and awed to share in the birth of any of your future children.
