Tuesday, July 02, 2002
Son of a bitch |2:04 PM|
The IRS gave a big thumbs down to my electronic filing. Great. They claim they already sent me my $300 refund from september, though I don't recall getting it. Of course, at the time I was probably still pretty screwed up emotionally. Maybe I spent it on alcohol for friends to get drunk while I watched.
Shit. I'm going to have to pay rent today, but how exactly is a hell of a question.
This is not going to be a fun afternoon. There's work to be done. I must count all the bees in the hive, and chase all the clouds from the sky. It's actually raining quite steadily here, converting this city into a sauna. At least I still have some left over spagetti.
Some former co-workers heard about my plan to get some part time work at Road Runner. They spent about 30 minutes or so explaining how the stupidity I witnessed has been eclipsed ten-fold by the current callers. It seems road runner is now doing television support as well, like video on demand. Wonderful. They went on to say how many screaming assholes they get a day (a lot) and how I'm not allowed to hang up on them or scream back (We'll just see about that). I'm think I should take a safari approach to the whole thing, that I'm in some dangerous intellectual wilderness, where fools roam free and can strike at any time.
This is looking more and more like a terrible idea. I still have to do it though. Bitter medicine, for a disease strictly of the bank account. I've got wallet leprosy.
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//That should close up the previous year.
///Say this is the swap from 2001 to 2002, that should close up the 2001 links.
///Problem is, we also need to close up the final month links too.
/// echo '