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Nose to the Grindstone, Shoulder...
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Seems to be metaphor day, as I was thinking of starting this entry by saying that I would have to bite the bullet. You have no doubt figured out that I am steeling myself to do an unpleasant task.

That task is--ta dah!--sorting the papers for income taxes. I hate sorting papers of any sort (just check the boxes in the closet, the ones I brought home from work a year or so ago); I abhor sorting papers almost as much as I dislike cleaning the toilet.

So, what do I do? I procrastinate, of course. ("procrastinate" is built upon "cras" the Latin word for "tomorrow")

Tomorrow is now. But first I had to make the bed, have breakfast, put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher, pour the leftover bean soup into a container for freezing, and write this entry.

I think I have run out of excuses. So off I go, teeth gritted, to tackle the dreaded paperwork. Wish me luck!

Christine had a great idea about listening to music while I sort papers. (Oh, noooo! Paper cut!!) I cranked up a favorite, and now I dance to the beat (and sort). Thanks for the tip!

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