A heavy week has just closed and a new one that does not bode well, opens.
Yes okay, thanks to the usual knowledge, We have an appointment for Thursday in an agency nearby. But I think it is more like the usual exchange of courtesies that will not have the slightest result.
Tuesday I will have instead a probable clash with another accountant. It is an old friend of this blog and, unfortunately, I also believe a case not too minority percentage of the loss as a client of the mafia bald.
Tuesday I will have instead a probable clash with another accountant. It is an old friend of this blog and, unfortunately, I also believe a case not too minority percentage of the loss as a client of the mafia bald.
Unfortunately I have hands and feet bound, how can I go looking for another accountant ? When I ask what is my business now, what I will never answer him? Zero? That's why, for now, I can only fight with this stupid bitch will not understand the situation, which continues to send parcels completely insane and against which I have to constantly fight. But the accountant should not be the one to protect my interests? Indicates that the best way, the most convenient?
Sometimes I wonder why things happen in life to me so foolish, unrealistic, stupid nonsense. How, for example, take the car to make the cut and found the next day with the flashing arrows paroxysmal crazy speed. Or not being able to come out of this crappy bronchitis that does not make me sleep at night and that seems to make me want to burst the lungs. Or find myself free to work with the former director on a draft of fifty pages without any certain prospect of effective implementation. Or try to get in touch with the art director, Carl Marx, what seems ten years younger, and find out who is in Sudan or some such place, on behalf of "party" to see how to solve problems' water supply and the like. O hear the guitar teacher of C. we should study composition because it is a boy of rare ability and then, by the same boy, found two deficiencies in the first semester school report.
Sometimes I wonder why things happen in life to me so foolish, unrealistic, stupid nonsense. How, for example, take the car to make the cut and found the next day with the flashing arrows paroxysmal crazy speed. Or not being able to come out of this crappy bronchitis that does not make me sleep at night and that seems to make me want to burst the lungs. Or find myself free to work with the former director on a draft of fifty pages without any certain prospect of effective implementation. Or try to get in touch with the art director, Carl Marx, what seems ten years younger, and find out who is in Sudan or some such place, on behalf of "party" to see how to solve problems' water supply and the like. O hear the guitar teacher of C. we should study composition because it is a boy of rare ability and then, by the same boy, found two deficiencies in the first semester school report.
I do not know, I seem to live on different worlds, in two parallel universes in different space-time, one where things start in the right way, according to the rules that we would expect to find them to conclude what had started as another world, where things are going in reverse, in which the mouse eats the cat and imbeciles command.
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