Of Taxes and Serial Killers

Tax time has come and gone for another year.

I was thinking about taxes just before I drifted off to sleep last Wednesday night. Earlier, I had been reading a book about a serial killer who prowled I-5 between Washington State and northern California, killing prostitutes along the way.

I dreamed that I was doing his taxes, and he insisted on claiming mileage. I wouldn’t let him do it because he wasn’t engaged in a legitimate business. We started arguing. That’s when I woke up.

Whew, maybe I should give up reading those kinds of stories just before bedtime.

Just a Few Words

We went out for dinner last night, and I ended up with food poisoning. Bummer!

I've decided to register for a noncredit class in short story writing. The class meets for six weeks on Monday evening, which I’m not too crazy about. However, I've been working sporadically on a short story that I (eventually) intend to submit to a major women’s magazine, and this class just might give me the incentive to finish the project.