I survived day two without sugar, except for the part where I had something a...trifle sugary. OKAY SUE ME.
I ate everything right until after work, when I went to the H&R Block, there, to get my taxes done. Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass my taxes are, as a freelancer? I had 1099s from four or five places, and also Miscellaneous whatever-they're-calleds for money I make on the ads here, and then I have to DEDUCT the cost of paying for this site (yes, it does cost) and one room in this house where I do all my work and also the $9 million of medical costs from last year and, ack.
It's not simple, is what I'm saying to you. I remember those heady days of having just one job all year, and I was single, and I filled out one page and boom. Done.
Anyway, I owe $2,000 to our fine government, and I knew I would owe. When you freelance you don't get any money taken out. So I wasn't surprised, just depressed. Even though I am not one of those people who thinks I am the exception, that I don't have to pay my fair share of taxes. I'm, you know, grateful to have roads to drive on and 911 to call when I have a cockroach in my sink.
So right when I was gathering up my things, the accountant said, "Would you like some dark-chocolate-covered pomegranates?"
Well, yes. Yes, I would. I mean, who wouldn't? And God, were they delicious.
So I had three dark chocolates yesterday. "I'm not extending my not-drinking by a day, if you're thinking you're gonna start all over," said cranky Ned. And I'm not. I'm not starting all over.
I also, because I was bored and for the most part sugarless, I looked at all my old OK Cupid emails, from before and when I first met Ned. Oh my GOD there were some scary people writing me. And also some 21-year-olds. What's up, 21-year-olds? Why the nice mother complex? If you're looking for a mom, you've come to the wrong place.
Anyway, one thing that that site does is send you emails with kind of a Brady Bunch grid of nine men. "One of these people rated you four or five stars!" the email reads. Because yes, you ARE able to go on there and rate people and
Dear God,
Could you make it so I never ever have to go on OK Cupid again? Thanks.Love, June
The point is, back on July 15, 2011, THERE WAS A PICTURE OF NED. Right there! Saying he might have been one of the Brady Bunch grid of men who'd rated me four or five stars! He was the only cute boy in the pictures.
"Did you rate me four or five stars?" I asked Ned, forwarding him the email.
"I like how I'm the Alice of everyone, right there in the middle," he noted, evading the Q about my stars. "Also, what the fuck are you doing on OK Cupid?" he asked.
The point is, it irks me that I was ALERTED TO HIS EXISTENCE six months before I noticed he was on that site. I could have been dating him six months earlier. But I guess I met him when I met him. Maybe I was supposed to have a summer dating the wrong people. Which
Dear God,
Cut it out.
Love, June
"Why didn't you notice me?" Ned groused, mad at me for something I didn't do six months before we ever met. "You clicked on Mrs. Brady, up there, didn't you? He looks intense." Mrs. Brady does look like he's having some deep/murdery thoughts.
I purposely cut out everyone else on this grid, because what if one of your husbands is up there and this becomes a Very Special Lawsuit edition of Bye Bye, Pie, but trust me.
And Greg looks 100% like Samuel L. Jackson.
So there it is. Have you ever wondered about that, about why you met your person when you did? Marvin and I lived IN THE SAME DORM and had several of the same friends, yet we never met all year. We met on the first day of the NEXT year, when he lived in a house. My high school boyfriend, Cardinal, had been a family friend for years. And we didn't meet till 10th grade. Mostly because my family kept showing him my junior high school pictures and I looked like Samuel L. Jackson.
Fate, man. It's a funny thing. As are dark-chocolate-covered pomegranates.
June, out. Of $2,000.
