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  • Writer's pictureMike Dickey

Procrastination Saturday

"My evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry 'til a more convenient season."


It is 11:22 central, and Peg is still walking around in a towel. I won't complain; watching her pad around the condo on those little feet wrapped in a bath towel brings a smile to this tired old lawyer.


And the view is tough to beat up here, watching the light change over the bay from sunup to midday.


But there is an ulterior motive in all this forced leisure--today is the day we sit down and do our tax homework, sitting at the office all day printing bank statements and credit card statements, and filling out pages of worksheets delivered fully a month ago by our diligent accountant Jay. Neither of us looks forward to blowing this beautiful day on such necessary drudgery.


Actually, my taxes are pretty simple. How much money do you have? That'll do. Please make check payable to the U.S. Treasury. My annual tax bill is now significantly higher than my starting salary as a lawyer. I should get an F-35 named after me.


Peg's, however, is another matter. As a traveler, she has to itemize every deduction she intends to take, for gas or food or lodging on her adventures in New York and Key West. So we'll sit in the office with a pile of statements and a highlighter, using the photos on our phones to isolate which dates we were where.


At the end of this trudge, we'll swing through Publix to buy the fixings for Peg's second big Mardi Gras feast of the season, this one a substantially more low-key affair tomorrow night with a couple good friends. Then tonight we look forward to our first Pops concert of the season, having been remiss in using our season tickets because we always seem to be out-of-town. There's less of that these days, a mixed blessing, but we're finding our bliss a little at a time here in the Cove.


I'm arbitrating as the arbitrator over in Destin for two days starting first thing Monday, so there may be another gap in my already spotty posting pattern this year. Peg's coming along, her availability to travel a benefit to both of us of her newfound life of leisure, and I plan to reserve a room in a fancy hotel over there on Monday night. No use slogging through south Walton traffic any more than necessary.


Okay, I've stalled enough. P's dressed and staring at me. We've run out of excuses. Time to unsheath our highlighters.

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