Busy Season Hate Mail

Dear Tax Season,

What’s the big idea, taking my husband away for a whole three months? Why are you such a bully?


My Ryan is working more and more with each passing day. Last night he didn’t even get home until after midnight. Then the sweet man had to carry me to bed because I fell asleep on the couch after watching “The Following” because I was too scared to go to bed alone (note to self, never watch crazy serial killer shows while home alone). Poor guy.

Also, I think you are making me fat. I eat when I am bored, and you sir, are boring. What’s a girl to do when she has no cute husband to entertain her? Pick up a hobby? Can my hobby be watching re-runs of Grey’s Anatomy and laughing at all the absurd medical lingo while simultaneously drooling over McSteamy? I have watched so many episodes lately that I am beginning to find deep, impactful lessons in the drama unfolding at Seattle Grace. At least you made me recognize that I have a real talent (and maybe even a career?) for analyzing soap operas. Thanks for that.


Oh, another reason you stink…you are fabulous at ruining the weekends. Saturdays are supposed to be filled with picnics in the sun, brunch and date-nights. Now they consist of early mornings dropping Ryan off at the train station and going back to my empty home to whine and moan. On the plus side, my house is pretty much spotless because of you. I am so bored I have revamped my OCD cleaning tendencies.


While I appreciate that you provide my husband employment and thus theoretically paid for the super cute new shirt I ordered online today, you still suck. Can’t it be April 15th already?

Go and harass someone else,



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