Giddiness is a rare commodity for me. If I seem such, then it means I’ve completed my “to do” list or I’ve pulled an impish prank on someone. The latter is often while being a complete moron. I’ve got my foibles.
I’m feeling better-than-usual tonight over the early completion of many year-end items. I’m just trying to track down a few other vendors for some tax information. That’s always a drawn out chore, because everyone else seems to be dimmer when it comes to their own business’s tax reporting. In a perfect world, I would be handed a W-9 form every time a new vendor does work for me. This isn’t the case. I always have to hound other companies for their information, even when they can be severely penalized for having unreported earnings. The sad part is that I would get backlash from the IRS, too.
I did write one more piece of flash fiction on Saturday night, as I watched middle-aged couples slurp down their dinners. That’s probably not true. It may just have been dessert. With it, a new aroma was added to the usual odors about me. That was the night I convinced myself it was OK to buy cologne, even if seemed expensive.
The winning fragrance was Bleu de Chanel which ended up being surprisingly light and fresh, as opposed to spicy or sweet. I could only permit myself to buy a 1.7oz bottle, as luxury items and I have a very strange relationship. It always seems irresponsible to spend out money for those types of items.