"Negligence is the rust of the soul, that corrodes through all her best resolves." - Owen Felltham

I've been neglecting this blog. I've been neglecting writing, and other things. It's winter and the snow and ice is just dismal.

My eyes are so dry I haven't worn my contacts for weeks. Dry eyes can be a symptom of head injuries. Strange isn't it?

No, not really. Our brains control everything, our mood, our thoughts, our sensations, the regulation of our bodily systems.

But I'm tired of talking about brain injuries. I don't want to seem like I'm complaining. (I am.) (Sometimes.)

I'm teaching myself how to play the Ukulele. Although it's touted as the easiest instrument to play, it's tricky. My left hand is the chord hand and my left side is the "slow side". But I like it. I'm not good at it, not by any means, but it's fun. Ukulele is a happy instrument, and playing it makes me happy. I'm not worried about being "good" or "good enough" to play for anyone else. I'm doing just that - playing.

And all this while Rome burns.

So many other things are overwhelming. I can't even think about taxes. There are all these lovely free programs for people under certain income levels. (Unemployed should count, eh?) But I've got a bit of complexity, so no one will offer assistance. After months (MONTHS) of struggling to get all my receipts in all the right folders, I stopped at my accountant.

"How much would it cost if I just gave you everything like this? They're all in categories, but I haven't tallied everything up."

She looked at me for a moment, disbelieving, and said, "Well, you might want to do it yourself and just give me the spreadsheets." (This is what I USED to do.)

Really, the mere task of finding and organizing everything had brought me to tears on numerous occasions. The thought of adding everything up and the countless errors and redoing made me feel like vomiting.

"How much?"

"My rate starts at $125 an hour."

I took my files and went home. Mind you, These are the files for 2009 we're talking about.

So they sit in my car. I can stomach bringing them back into the house; that would feel like defeat.

So I play the Ukulele instead. Neglecting you taxes - I wrote a little song about it. Wanna hear it? It goes something like this...