Oh, man, do I hope Red and Melly can make it to knit-night tonight. The sales tax went up one percent today, to help take the edge off property taxes (yeah, right) and of course, to assist in the purchase of the new stadium. (For a football franchise that could well afford to finance their own, but what do I know of such things?) I'm not even a fan. I like a good knock-down, bloodied-up sporting event... ice hockey, rugby, kick-boxing... all good, and ever so entertaining. Anyway, between the two of them, they'll be able to convince the computer to change it's electronic mind in the point-of-sale program. (I know, I should learn, but I am a middle-aged dog and these are scary, new tricks.)
Today was also the tax-guy meeting. I have to say I may just love Mr. Taxman to pieces. He didn't even flinch as I poured papers all over his desk. He refrained from shrieking like a girl when I handed over the file box and bag(s) of receipts, statements, and miscellaneous forms to be filled out. And he figured the amount of sales tax I needed to pay, wrote in all the lines of the proper form, and all I need to do is mail the check. Whooo-hooo! Can I get an "Amen"? Thank you.
This is the year that "Boris" has declined to "do" the taxes, as the business mess made it too confusing and more than a little anxiety-producing... and this way he avoids jail if the papers are filed incorrectly. That's worth a few dimes, no?
I'm off to spend a few hours with the chirruns and the spouse. Miss Melly has just graciously offered to knit a layette set out of 'the glut of organic cotton' for display purposes. (Whew!) Coming up in the weeks ahead... new handpainted yarns from the beautiful (and strangely athletic) Lotus, and I'm told the yarn love will be shipping soon. So much fiber-y goodness, so little knitting time. Latah, knittas. C