Taxman Blues

I’ve spent my day struggling with Turbo Tax, trying convince it to use its hocus-pocus to fill my coffers instead of drain them. Sadly, it looks like I’ve lost the battle, and the American IRS is going to get every dime it has coming to it. In short, I’m too torn up about it all to be bothered to prattle on much today.

On top of the taxes and another sunless day, I read a 6-day-old post over at Sexless Berlin while I ate my lunch. Big mistake. She’s chucking it all in (and by “all,” I mean Berlin and her blog), at least for a time, and that’s too bad. I enjoyed reading her candid posts that opened a window into one woman’s mind, and in particular, her funny and enlightening musings about nipples in Egypt. I hope she finds what she’s looking for in Spain. In the meantime, the expat population in Berlin grows smaller.

By the way, since I moved to Germany, I find that I often have unusual, nostalgic hankerings for music I haven’t listened to for ages. I suppose it’s just another way for my subconscious to cure the homesick blues, but these psychotic episodes have been a great way for me to revisit some old tunes. Today, one of my favs, Locust St., is featuring a 47 year-old rockabilly number by Charlie Feathers called “Wild Wild Party.” Now, I haven’t been to a wild party for a time, but hearing Feathers clucking out of my speakers at a generous volume kind of puts me in the mood for one. I think I’ll go listen to it again to see if I can forget about my tax problems. I suggest you do the same.