When a $ Sign is a Road Sign

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What a pleasant vacation it has been, spending hours every day working through an unusually complicated and vexing tax prep. One satisfaction is shredding some antique receipts that had no tax significance at the time and which I saved only out of paranoia and which I am now bold enough to discard.

That's faith in you, Big O.

So I'm going through some old credit card bills, and there it is: May 24, 2000, I charged -- what is it? --$1,005 for one ticket, make that two tickets at $1,005 each, SF to Roanoke, Virginia, where I was born and raised. Damn. What was that about? A bogus charge that I neglected to catch? May 2000? May 2000?

Ohhhhhhhhhh yeah. May 24, 2000. That was the day after my dad died.

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I Think Twitter Should Only Be Used for Moments of Despair. In Which Case This Would be a Fine Twit. As Am I at This Moment.

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I can't find our 1099 forms. Do you think I *subconsciously* lost them because last year was such a bad year for our retirement accounts?

And now I have to seek out the damned things, as if I were dying of something and some black-sheep relative was a tissue match.

Put That on the Blog E. Says

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We are talking about the resentments on the part of some (not all) of the rich and the very well to do when asked to pay what I consider their fair share of taxes.

I do not have the time or patience at this moment to tease out my definition of "fair share." But you can imagine my arguments. This is no fresh path through the woods. You know the way.

In any event, E. and I are talking about our *impatience* with those folk who don't want to do their share. Hey, some of these new taxes will hit us, and aren't we lucky?

So we're talking, and I say:

"Some people confuse their worth with their Worth."

It's not exactly Oscar Wilde but it's not Bush the Lesser either.