Taxes and breathing

The only two things I can count on that will go on and on.

Okay, so maybe not *my* breathing, in particular, but some thing, somewhere, drawing breath. 

I received my W2 from my employer on Wednesday.  This only made me more paranoid about taxes this year.  When I packed my office, I did an okay shitty job of it, so I think I kinda know where the items in question could be.  Maybe.  Sorta.  I mean, there in a box somewhere, damnit.  Fuckety, fuck, fuck, fuck.  I'm hosed.  Just take me to tax jail now.  I look like hell in orange or stripes too.  Fuck.

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I've been thinking about my life lately.  A whole lot about it, in fact.  I would call it Deep Thoughts, but they've mostly been pretty shallow.  Not kiddie-pool shallow, but not exactly mind-blowing either.  Mostly the thoughts have centered around: travel, real estate, going back to school, relationships and sex.  Not necessarily in that order and not necessarily the same amount of thought for each.  I wish I knew as much about life as I seemed to know at age 15.  I was a rock-star genius (or so I thought).  Now I'm just one more tangled mess of emotions and thoughts caught in the tidepool of life. 

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And so it goes ....

(thanks, K.V., for being so eloquent ... )