we’re working on our taxes. and by “we,” i mean mo is grappling with a huge pile of papers while i read a david sedaris book. it’s good to have specific roles when tackling a major task.

i was always a 1040ezzzzz guy, while mo tends to take things seriously, so i’m content to drink zamboni coffee and listen to the cat snore while she squints at ways to write off Fancy Gelato and Americanos as a business expense.

I figure she knows what she’s doing. what could go wrong?

but then.

as i toss the old coffee grounds, i see a piece of paper on top of the trash, apparently part of her discarded tax paperwork. it consists of a series of seemingly random words that could have been typed endlessly by jack nicholson midway through “the shining,” and a drawing of a startled cat wearing a mask and earmuffs. my legal liability is in the hands of a wildly creative but mildly deranged arteest. i suspect this will not end well.

oh, well. art, and income tax, are in the eye of the beholder. we both are doomed to die of cadmium poisoning soon anyhow.

i hope i get to meet aunt becky in prison …