Have I ever mentioned that when I tell people what I do for a living it stops the conversation in it's tracks, kills it, and leaves it for dead on the side of the road? It's really the weirdest thing I've ever seen. I know I don't have an exciting job, but I've never in my life seen three more powerful words in the world.
I'm an accountant.
Cut to the person I'm talking to immediately glaze over and all people within a five mile radius die inside a little of boredom, and have no idea why. Like they're just minding their business, walking down the street all relaxed-like and suddenly they can't feel part of their soul because I sucked it out when I started talking about taxes, and they don't know why, but they go home that night and yell at their wife for making brownies too gooey, confused about why they're doing it, but powerless to stop the creeping soul-death that has entered them all because they happened to be in the vicinity of my job-talk.
"They're too gooey bitch!"
Blank stare. "What? Since when are brownies too gooey?"
"I don't know?"
"Fine. Stop being weird, and eat them."
"Fuck you!"
"What?"
"I don't know what's happening to me!"
I'm like a dementor.
So, anyway, that's why I'm going to spare you all my work stories right now and just show you how I cope:
(Well, I just discovered I can't show you, because my Dad reads this and no one wants to see me in a bathtub full of red wine less than he does.)
When the bath gets cold I turn this up on repeat and try to figure out how to marry it.
In love.
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