I did it. I was up until 6 a.m., but I managed to get my paperwork in order. Then, after a few hours of sleep, I took it all to the accountant. It's out of my hands! It feels almost as good as getting a manuscript in the mail after a wee-hours run to the post-office-that's-no-longer-open-24/7. Hey, maybe it's that post office's fault that I can only write in fits and starts these days. Bring back my 2 a.m. sure thing, Universe!
After the accountant, I cheated on Starbucks with a quick stop at Jack in the Box for an iced coffee. I know! I feel so guilty. However, their drive-through has its advantages, like this sign I shot:
This reminds me that I recently met, through a mutual friend, a young woman who works at Jack in the Box. When I heard this about her, I said, "Oh, REALLY? Well, I don't know about YOUR Jack in the Box..."
At this point, I could see her bracing herself for some bitchy customer rant.
I continued, "...but I swear they give good drugs to their employees at the two Jacks closest to me, because I LOVE the women who work there." And it's true. They're always happy, always nice. And even though I really, really try to limit fast food runs, sometimes I go there just because I know someone will make me smile. Today was no exception.
This is not an invitation to hear sucky Jack in the Box stories. Let me have my illusion that Jack in the Box is the hamburgery version of Candy Mountain.
Only without kidney thieves.