Mid-week letters

Dear Mother Nature,
In a more perfect world, one where I have been home more than one hour and 23 minutes all day (9 of which were during daylight and required eating dinner), there would be a photo here of my blooming crocus' in all their white and purple glory. I did see them in passing today and rejoiced that we finally had a decent sunny day and they opened up. I am not planning on being able to see them tomorrow... because for some ungodly reason you are feeling the need to effing mess with me this year. In case you have forgotten, and I understand, I am very forgetful these days also, it's spring now. See, winter is supposed to show up in November, not March. The 60 degree weather is supposed to be here in April, not at Christmastime. It is not supposed to be colder on Easter than Christmas and Thanksgiving. That. Is. Not. Normal. I am so bloody tired of being cold I can't even stand it. I am sick of my warm sweaters. I am tired of being bundled up and still being cold. I am tired of the snow. The whole idea of 6-10 inches of wet, heavy snow mixed with sleet and freezing rain tomorrow makes me want to hide in the closet with alcohol and cry. Please fix this. Soon.
Not loving you right now, B.


Dear IRS,
You suck. This whole "self employment" tax, and estimated quarterly payment bullshit.. not liking it one bit. I get that if you have a side gig making money for yourself then you are required to pay taxes. If we are already paying into FICA/Medicaid at our regular jobs.. why on God's good earth should we be required to pay it again!?! Makes no sense. And more than that, it makes me grumpy. What makes me more grumpy, is that I had to estimate the whole year when I filed our taxes back in February. As of this moment, we are going to pay you too much $$ for this quarter and there is not a damn thing I can do to change that. Way to stick it to the common man IRS. I hope you enjoy the interest you make on our $$ this year while we wait to get it back next year. Rest assured I won't be so quick to file in '08.
One cranky taxpayer.

Dear cranky back/hips/neck/shoulders... fill in body part here,
Look... sometimes my job requires me to do things that make you hurt. When only two people are available to push heavy display cartons containing the book fair up the ramp, these things happen. Deal with the stress I am putting on you, and get over it. FAST! I don't have time for this pain. I have drumming. I have daily household chores. I have to sleep sometime! What I don't have is a need for the kind of pain you are putting me through. I am grumpy enough already (and can you spell PMS on top of that?) and you are not effing helping. ENOUGH ALREADY!
One aching grump.