O my god o my god o my god. Tomorrow is April the freakin' 15th. Yet again, I have managed to put off the whole tax thing until the absolute last minute. WHY do I do this, WHY? It's not like it gets any easier, or disappears if I don't look at it or anything. It's not even like I can bat my eyelashes and con the hubby into it, because that would not be a good thing. He is nowhere near cynical enough to take on the IRS. He actually thinks the kind folks there will understand if he makes a mistake, bless his optimistic little heart. He also still thinks people are basically good, the police are our friends, and the government can be trusted to do the right thing. It's a lovely planet he lives on. I hear there are Oompahloompahs on the sunny side.
Meanwhile, back on Earth, it's crunch time. The Ferengis are at the gate, and they've got Klingon backup. Where is Scotty when you realllllly need him?
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