Oh my God – how much do I love accountants right now? I think I may even be on the brink of falling in love with mine.
Yes, I have hired myself an accountant. It took long enough – after unsightly facial eczema, hair falling out from stress, sleepless nights and the “haggled look” my step-dad so mentioned in concern, I have started to rebuild my life.
Bugger you SARS, it' not over until the fat lady sings.
Tax is such a monolithically overwhelming stress, I often imagine running a scythe through the Taxman's head, and quite gleefully too. SARS makes me bipolar. It makes me feel lethal on the verge of frenzy. It spawns within me a blood pressure so astronomical, I feel my jugular pump in sinful quagmire.
Until my lovely new accountant breezed in, patted my head (while bits of hair fell onto my shoulders and my eczema itched), and spoke these unforgettable words, “No worries. I'll sort this all out for you...[for a nominal fee.]”
Bring on the nominal fee, I will cash in my Andy Warhol prints. No worries “I'll fiddle around with your numbers.” Never were such beautiful words spoken.
I admire those who do numbers. I can't write numbers down without panicking.
As a result of this, I'm making a few fucking changes around here:
1)I will be marched to Baze's capable hairdresser where she'll turn my crowning tumbleweed into a feast of glory. It will be spectacular, whatever she does. Better be. But it's got to be better than what's covering my koppel at the minute.
2)I will invest in an expensive pair of hair tongs. The one's that cost a small island. I can't be bothered to fanny about with hairdryers and shit. Much like I can't be bothered with tax returns and doctors appointments. But this weekend, this will all change. I will become high maintenance like the rest of my mates.
3)Sometimes you actually need to back off and look at things with a more casual eye. It's about being objective.
4)I will kill the Parktown Prawn that terrorised me and Martha Stewart in the lounge last night. There will be screeching, then jubilation and back-slapping.
5)I'm going to sort out this eczema with miracle cream. I will find it by the end of the week. Before I turn into Uncle Fester.
6)And consider riding that 94.7 this weekend. Dick is lending me his bike – the same one I used last year. It would help, but I'm not sure I'll make this one. I'm doubting it.
7)I felt like the redhead in Grey's Anatomy last night. Like nothing is meant to work out indefinitely. But I suppose I can always have great hair.