If there’s a perfect day to do income taxes, today is such a day.
It’s miserable outside. The wind is cold and relentless. Which, now that I think about it, is what I’ve heard about the IRS. I do a search for TurboTax and click on the download button. I’ve got to do this. I can’t put it off any longer.
Bridget and Spike are restless.
I know what’s going to happen. I’ll get right in the middle of the tax return and they’ll start pestering me to go outside. There’s going to be a storm soon, so we might as well get this over with.
“Okay, you monkeys. I’ll take you out.”
Once the crew is suited up, I open the door. The wind whips it out of my hand. What a dark and dreary day! I tighten up my hat and adjust my walking stick.
“Now we’re not going far. Just up the road and then that’s it.”
Out on the road a car approaches.
This is unusual. Since we made camp here at Ash Fork last Friday, I’ve only seen one other vehicle on this road. The car approaches and stops. A man steps out and walks toward me. “Hello, rvsue!”
“Oh my gosh, I don’t believe it!” The man gives me a big smile and introduces himself as Don, one of the readers of my blog. He’s from North Carolina. We manage to have an enjoyable conversation in spite of standing in the middle of a raging windstorm.
After Don drives away, the crew and I continue up the road.
I look up the hill expecting to see my neighbor’s camp. Camo man is gone! I never heard him drive by our camp on his way off this section of the Kaibab National Forest. I’m strangely disappointed, and wonder who he was, what brought him to this place, and where he’s going.
The wind is really hammering us now.
“Okay, guys, I can’t take any more of this.”
We turn back toward home which delights Bridget in particular. She strains at her leash. I unhook them both, and away they run at top speed into the wind to wait for me at the door of the BLT. Now they’ll take a nap and I can do . . . . yuck . . . those damn taxes.
Ooh, it feels so good inside.
Over on the table my laptop sits waiting with gaping jaws. A box of unorganized scraps of paper and documents squats sullenly at its side. Oh, how I hate this job . . .
Suddenly rain pelts the windows and wind buffets the side of the BLT. I peek through the blinds.
“Wow, this is quite a storm.”
I reach up into the cabinet over the stove and pull out a skillet. What I need is a scrambled-egg-and-salsa burrito . . . and, let’s see, hmmm . . . and another cup of coffee. Then I’ll do the taxes!