Everything I've done instead of my taxes

A tribute to annual capital-P procrastination

Misery

As long as I’ve been a freelancer—16 years now—I’ve dreaded tax time. Putting aside that the last thing I feel like doing right now is sending my money to our bitch-ass oligarchy, the fact remains that this has always been a slog. I don’t even do my own taxes, but the prep required to hand it off to someone else is still tedious as hell.

Lately I’ve been deep in writing a couple of pieces I’m quite proud of. But I’ve also been through some intense emotional cycles around work, writing, and what I want to do with the rest of my life. You know, small inconsequential stuff. It occurred to me, as I continued to procrastinate on this giant tax prep task, that I needed a conceptual (if not actual) break. Listing everything out has been fun and devastating. As I always say, we’re all doing the best we can. Except me. I’m not. But good for you.

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Everything I've done instead of my taxes

Completed the FAFSA.

Twice.

Took 3-hour naps.

Twice.

Sat in the middle of a snowy field with my dog, as in I got off the trail and walked to the dead center of the deep snow and sat right on my ass, petting my dog and talking to her, and stared at the sky and the horizon wondering if I was losing my mind or if this is what having a mind is actually supposed to feel like, without all the screens and typing.

Twice.

Wrote my Dad a thank you note for my Christmas gift.

Wrote my Dad a letter to go inside the thank you note because why not.

Sorted through a substantial collection of skincare and fragrance samples.

Started using aforementioned skincare and fragrance samples since any time I pack them for a trip I’m like “Well I can’t chance using these here! What if my skin breaks out! What if this perfume smells like ass!” So now, while I’m a winter-bound hermit and an emotional self-terrorist, testing stuff on myself it is.

Found a missing vibrator under my bed. I don’t even remember when it went missing.

Washed my vibrators.

Found the charger for my vibrators, something I have not been able to locate for over a month. Maybe all of this is related. How much of a good time was I showing myself exactly?

Charged my vibrators because someone should be rested and ready and it ain’t me.

Put my vibrators in clean and cozy new storage bags. They deserve it.

Cleaned off my nightstand.

Pulled more books for my nightstand.

Realized belatedly that they all have black covers. Fitting.

Tried on all my underpants.

Tried on all my bras.

Tried on all my swimsuits.

Resisted the urge to weigh myself.

Resisted the urge to take my measurements.

Resisted the urge to hate on myself for looking my age in various ways.

Instead sat in front of a full length mirror, completely naked, and drank a cup of coffee while staring at myself. This took at least 30 minutes. This might be my new thing.

Rearranged all the various oils on my tiny kitchen counter.

Rearranged my pantry, sort of.

Felt inspired to, like, make a war room for my future life and post up my values and big goals and get all the various creative projects I’ve thought about out of my head and onto the wall.

But then didn’t do it.

Felt inspired to, like, overhaul my eating and exercise plan to at the very least get a hold of my late winter mental health and lay some solid ground work for the spring.

But then didn’t do that either.

Ate so many Cadbury Mini Eggs instead.

Then ate so many more.

Truly ingested so much sugar this week I feel ill.

Won’t learn anything from this.

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Sorted through my son’s socks and finally got rid of the strays.

Cleaned my son’s room.

Sorted through my daughter’s cosmetics, skincare, and haircare products, organized them, and finally threw away the empties.

Cleaned half my daughter’s room.

Bought a bookcase.

Won a lamp.

Bought two coffee mugs while picking up the lamp.

Bid on the Babygirl auction.

Won a dress.

Put a jumpsuit from Shrimpton Couture on layaway.

I do not need any of those things.

I am not living a life that supports owning any of those things.

Alas.

(But who knows, soon I might!)

Cleaned my white boots that were dirty from last wearing them at the end of December.

Started going through a box of my very old writing, like decades old, a box I took out of storage last summer and have not touched since.

Thought about the future.

Thought about if there will be a future.

Thought about how much everyone I know hates work, including me, and wondering what the point of anything is right now especially.

Speaking of work, posted on LinkedIn. Hated myself a little.

Will probably do it again anyway.

Said aloud, many many many times, “what are we all doing?”

Unsubscribed from a bunch of Substacks, not even remembering how I found them in the first place.

Unsubscribed from Forbes, something I subscribed to for a project and no longer need nor want.

Decided to try Hinge again. I hated Hinge the first time, not sure what I think has changed.

Don’t even want to date anyway. Wondering what the point of literally anything is.

Don’t even want to leave my stupid apartment to meet people I already know and like.

^ (This is the most late-February Vermont vibe of all time.)

Finished reading two books.

Read 100 pages of another.

Hung up all my clothes that have been strewn across my room, some of them for almost two months now.

Became obsessed with this perfect bit of comedy, only to find out that it’s a Vermont account which made it all the sweeter. It’s the only thing that has made me wish I was a snowboarder and was part of The Culture.

Woke up this morning singing 🎶 WASHING THE DICKS OFF OF YOUR CAR 🎶 because of it.

Wrote this list.

You can find my books here.
You can find more writing here.
You can find my work for brands here.
You can find me wasting time on Instagram and Bluesky.
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