InsaneJournal

Current mood:	anxious
Entry tags:	anxiety, stupid business shit, tax form

Fucking fuckers with their fucking form
I hate forms, in fact, I'd go so far as saying that I'm a bit phobic about them since even straightforward ones almost always send me into a blind panic. Unfortunately, the tax form is like the Great White Shark of forms - not only is it fiendishly complicated, written in some strange and meaningless form of English but it's covered with dire warnings about what will happen if you fuck it up, even accidentally. Needless to say, this form and I are not a good combination.

I read it and read it but just end up whimpering and saying over and over again, "but I don't know what it means, I don't understand what it means". Every year, my poor family have to do a lot of hand holding and soothing back rubbing while I'm filling the fucker in.

The minute I start earning some actual money from my art (ha!), I am going to have to employ an accountant because I am right at the edge of my capabilities at the moment and I simply won't be able to cope if it ever gets any more complicated. What is scary is that I know that I'm doing the simplest possible version because most of the boxes don't apply to me, yet I'm still struggling badly.

I think I may be finished now, which is good because it's due in today. OK, going to make a cup of tea, have a final read through and then call it done.