Saturday, February 01, 2014

Move It, Letterman...

The Top Ten Signs It is Tax Season

1. I buy new socks instead of taking the time to wash the dirty ones. This is a reality of which I am not proud.

2. I throw away J's "dishes" instead of washing them. Dishes is a subjective term for the empty pickle jars and frozen food trays he uses to drink and eat from respectively.

3. I have food in my hair. Don't even ask. I don't know how it happens or why it happens to me often, but I normally do find food in my hair during February Sweeps.

4. I start referring to my job as February Sweeps. It sounds more glamorous than tax season. Like a hit TV show.

5. Your name is Jerry...but I have called you Jackson, Jeremiah, Jason, and Johnson all in the last 15 minutes because my mind is constantly making a list of things to be done at work. So, I cannot remember your name and am trying to get close. Cut me some slack.

6. There is an inverse relationship between my glasses of wine consumed and hours at work. Don't nobody got time for a hangover. How ghetto was that?

7. I just flicked off the drive thru attendant at Chick-Fil-A. Those people are saintly, but even saints cannot avoid the wrath of a busy, mother of three struggling her way through February Sweeps. How dare that place change up my favorite salad? Blasphemy.

8. My children look petrified at all times. They live in constant fear that this will be the season from which there is no return. They are not sleep deprived or in trouble; they are worried I am going to actually break. Or break the man who just pulled out in front of me at Publix.

9. J looks slightly confused and hurt. This is because I holler the names of other men in bed. That came out wrong. I talk in my sleep, and when I am stressed, the talking gets out of the point that I will sit up in bed; yell the name of a man whose return I am trying to finish; and then rest my head back on my pillow. I have also been known to ask for cookies and sing songs about flamingos and tee pees. Not a joke. Not an exaggeration. I will sing in my sleep and keep poor J awake half the night. He enjoys recording it to embarrass me later.

10. You mention Spring Break plans with your kids. I mutter the F word and walk away.