“Oh crud, we need to do our taxes,” I recently told my husband as I do every year around this time. After exhausting every reason to procrastinate ÔÇô cleaning out the vegetable drawer, perusing old Hickory Farms catalogues left over from Christmas, clipping toenails, surfing E-bay for vintage bar signs, napping ÔÇô we finally had…
What I believe about Hell and hand baskets