Hundred


Somehow, we owe on our taxes. A lot. I always believed that when I started working a wage job instead of gigging around as an independent contractor, that the days of being whammied with a giant tax bill at the end of the year would be over, but here we are: a full year of full time employment, and now making just enough more money that the old tax credits don’t apply and the standard deduction doesn’t close the gap. Thanks, tax code.

To be fair, I’m not quite finished working through the program yet. There’s a slim chance that I made a mistake along the way and when I review it all I will find it and this will all have been a bad dream, but I’m not very hopeful. I had to walk away from the studio before I finished: I was getting too worked up. I went to the library and swapped out my books for new ones, and when I made my way backto the house I just couldn’t work up the gumption to dive back in. So I sat and read my book instead, and afterwards went for a run.

I was very motivated to run: I made the questionable choice of watching “Baywatch” the movie last night, during which I concluded that I had a better chance of acquiring the bulked physique of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson before I’d ever be able to shave my body down to the proportions of any one of the three leading ladies. I could starve myself into a coma and I’d still never be that shape: which is fine, I mean, I’ll also never be tan and although I occasionally cast longing and envious looks at the people who are, I’ve come to accept my lot in life. Still, It’s been two weeks since I went running, and I could feel it. For the past year or so, I’ve been watching my body change: mostly adding bulk around my middle. I work a sedentary job. I don’t exercise as much as I should. I’m getting older… Still, though, it feels strange: like I’m gradually putting on an increasingly thick rubber suit over the “real” me. I can see it in my stout little shadow. I can feel it in the way the flesh moves on my back when I run. I guess it’s time to either come to terms with the new normal: either that there’s going to be more of me than ever before, or else I’m going to need to change my habits and change them for good. One way or another, I’m going to have to make a decision.

Le sigh.

In other news, today would have been my grandpa’s one hundredth birthday. When he died, at age ninety one, he was pretty sure he was already one hundred, so today would’ve been redundant to him, but the rest of us still enjoyed celebrating with a shot of Crown Royal (his favorite). So all’s well that ends well. Tomorrow is another day.

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on March 24, 2018.

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