Day three of Snot Watch.
On Thursday night, I sat in the darkened theater watching an incredible revival of “South Pacific” and thought “uh-oh, viral overload imminent”. Sure enough, Friday morning dawned with copious snot, congestion and otherwise dope-headiness.
As one might guess, I’m not tolerant of illness and the lethargy it brings. I tend to kvetch and grump and minimize to best of my body’s limited ability, the OCD leprechaun in my head squawking about all that unproductive time I’m wasting sleeping or coughing or you know, trying to breathe.
So by Day 3, despite the purchase of a second box of cold meds and my angry Rudolph-like snout, I applied for two jobs, updated my job portfolio on cw.com, and critiqued a writer in my group (I even tacked a note that apologized for anything that wasn’t in the King’s english, or seemed to be a zombie-rising spell).
Worst of all, I tried to make sense of tax forms. Not the run o’ the mill personal income tax torture we all endure, but the application for tax exempt status for a nonprofit group kind. Stuff that lawyers and accountants handle so the rest of us dont have to. The IRS is kind enough to supply ‘instructions’ for this multi-page affair, but those of us familiar with assembling diagrams know this isn’t as self-explanatory as one might believe at first glance. Something tells me my accountant friend might ask me some interesting questions when he reviews my papers before submission (“Are you sure you want the bylaws to say that each board meeting must begin with a rousing rendition of the Hokey Pokey?”). But then again, maybe the folks at the IRS could use the laugh.