Gnaaaaaaah, what a morning. Erica came over last night, and while we started to bring her home at a fairly reasonable hour, on the way home she mentioned a Fantastic Business Opportunity that’s come up for her, and while I think that her husband Joel is right and that she’s already made up her mind to do it, she’s in a (quite reasonable) panic and uncertainty stage, and wants to talk to people, use them as sounding boards, and get some reassurance. So we ended up talking until a quarter…
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ooooooh
Ooooooooh. I called officialpayments.com and explained that I’d made this payment last month, yadda yadda yadda, and found out what the problem was. The problem was that they credited the money I sent last month via their online server to the *2001* taxes, whereas it was *supposed* to be the final payment for the *2000* taxes. After an extremely frustrated dance through the IRS phone tree, I talked to a woman (who wasn’t nearly as smart as Ms. Harris) who listened to the whole rigamarole and then transfered me to…
huh
Huh. Ted just called to say that the little duplex in the Valley of the Moon has gone back on the market. I called Mom to tell her. :) Work, work, work, I really must do some work. Oh, hey, the dryer’s stopped. Perhaps I’ll see if Chanti can behave herself well enough to come downstairs for a while. *vroom*
to do
Thursday’s Thinks To Do: 1. Print Legion for Tony 2. Email A.C. Crispin 3. Rewrite a chapter of US^h^h^h^h^h^h^h do some writing 4. Email a desc of the character for Last Angel Standing to the elfwood artist
splah!
Splah! Well. The RMFW contest at least *received* my stuff, presumably in time, although the postcard is postdated the 8th, but one assumes the nice lady didn’t rush out the instant the materials were received and stick it back in the box. There’s no note on it saying, “You suck! Got here too late!” or, “You suck! We already have our 200 entries and nobody else gets to enter!” Not that this means much, but at least it doesn’t *say* that. :) I just went and re-read the rules for…