April 3, 2008
One plus three.
Yesterday Charles and I looked at our paste-colored faces in the mirror and realized that it was time for a walk. Our recent respective deadlines have been slightly absurd, and my backside had spent the last two weeks firmly planted in the substrate of either a desk chair, a piano bench or an airline seat. If I wasn’t so lucky to have the metabolism of a middle-aged hummingbird, I would look like a Beluga whale by now.
And here is where we hiked out to. The sunshine and breeze made our faces far better colored. What a fortunate life I have.
Adding to the sedentary nature of my existence this week is that old American favorite, tax time. Like most people, I can’t stand doing my taxes. I suppose I could sit and do them. But instead, I don’t do them: for many years I’ve had a good CPA who does them for me (and since marriage a few years ago, us). But one still has to round up every bit of the information to the patient person happy to be paid to plow through it all, and thus begins the dance of procrastination. It’s really anti-crastination. Because I’m against having to do this in the first place.
A few years ago it finally dawned on my why, just why, quite specifically, I resist and detest this necessary process.
I hate looking backward.
I am a forward-thinking, future-oriented, goal-driven person. Having to face every stupid detail of my past life and finances, incoming and outgoing, over a period of time that now began a whopping 16 months ago, is incredibly irritating to me.
It is completely against my nature.
There. I feel better. My blogatherapy session time is up. Thanks for listening, and now I’m in a better state of mind to spend the evening doing my taxes so someone else can do them.