Taxation, representation, vive la Scouse nation

Deciding that a full-scale offensive on my to-do list might be the best way forward, I did just that. The biggest item is my tax return, a process that fills me with dread every year. I use a software called Quicken, which is pretty helpful, then provide all the information to an accountant who files on my behalf. I hate the process of collating information though. The software is on an older computer and requires manual data entry. I actually don’t mind doing this because it helps me focus on how much I am spending on things I should be spending on. Come to think of it, this might be one of the reasons why I procrastinate so much.
 
Anyway, I spent far too long doing this, and had forgotten a scheduled call with Mark in London. I remembered just in time (i.e., 15 minutes late) and logged on to WhatsApp to find a series of abusive messages aimed in my general direction: “where are you?” was the general message, but in varying timbres of insult. I rang just as the news was coming through of the Fanta Felon’s proposed 25% tariff on the EU/Europe. As Mark works for a news agency, he was following the feed while we chatted, and was suitably impressed with the OT’s ability to mess up every relationship his country has ever had for little or no gain or fathomable reason.
 
Once off that, I did some writing, then realised that Dirk is coming this weekend and the basement needs cleaning. I also realised I had no desire to do it, so pretended I hadn’t realised it needed cleaning in the first place. I’ll drop it casually into a conversation this evening and see if I can bribe Ottawacker Jr. to do it. Don’t work harder, just work smarter.
 
The afternoon brought the latest in the succession of tough Liverpool matches, this time against Newcastle United. I was actually a little worried about this – after the masterclass on Sunday against the 115ers, a drop in intensity was always likely. No such worry, though, as Liverpool out in arguably their best performance of the season to win very comfortably (2-0). A marker of how well they were playing was that when, at the end of the game with the score 2-0, the referee announced 7 minutes of additional time, and I didn’t swear at the screen and spend the next 7 minutes panic-stricken in case Newcastle scored. I sat their serenely and calmly. I almost considered a yoga pose at one moment. I am not sure I am built for serene experiences at football matches (or for yoga poses, to be honest), but there you go. These are the cards I am dealt.
 
While I remember, my voting card arrived today – a mere 24 hours before the election. I have already voted (because snow is forecast for tomorrow and I didn’t want to risk the streets being impassable). Mrs. Ottawacker and I might be the only two people in the city to vote. If that is the case, Ottawa South ward will be swathed in orange.