Chemistry, Black Holes, and Taxes for Writers

At least once a week, I wish that I wrote scifi or thrillers. Those are the days when my son comes home from lab with a story to tell. Yesterday, it was “Hey, in lab I separated mirror molecules and used them to bend light.” Or, “Did you know that all you have to do is mix X with Y and you’ll get the most amazing explosion?”

It seems to me that there ought to be websites that authors can peruse like Explosive Chemistry for Writers wherein a chemist lists all the household chemicals that can be mixed together to provide explosions—a la MacGyver or Burn Notice (though I’m told that those writers could use such a website too). Or what about Theoretical Physics for SciFi Writers. And there could be discussions of black hole firewalls (yes, this is a real thing), event horizons, and paradoxes. Of course, I think theoretical physics is mostly math and I can’t think of many writers who’d want Math for Writers. Unless it’s Tax Math for Writers. Doesn’t that sound great? All you have to do is plug in expenses and remittance information and voila Tax Math for Writers would print out proper tax paperwork.

Speaking of Tax Math, April is coming. Eleven months out of the year, I hope and pray for great sales. And then there’s one month where I hope my sales aren’t amazing. Tax time. I guess there is a time and season for everything.

Illustration by 420Ainsley, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Sticking It to the Man

Now that my children are adults, I admit that I take perverse pleasure in seeing them deal with the craziness of the grown up world.

I’ve heard them rail at the ridiculousness of the tax code. My response, “Yes, my dear child, it’s convoluted mumbo jumbo. The government doesn’t want you to understand the IRS forms—it supports a whole industry known as H&R Block.”

I’ve heard them deal with telemarketers. “No, we really don’t need ADT. We have a dog.” After hanging up, I’ve heard a particular child mumble, “That person claimed that you could incapacitate a dog with hairspray—how stupid is that? Don’t they know that (chemicals A, B, and C) won’t bother a dog?!” Yes, dear, telemarketers lie.

I’ve had to have them sitting next to me so I could talk to the financial aid department about my tax returns—they have to get on the phone and give permission at every step so the financial department doesn’t violate their right to privacy even though it’s about my tax return. Yes, dear, this is a waste of your time. Sorry. Cope.

One of my college seniors thinks the exit exams are ridiculous. I pointed out that the exams are just another hoop to jump through in the bureaucracy of life. This particular senior contemplated marking all the answers “C.” My husband said, “So, would that be your way of sticking it to the man?” I burst into peals of laughter. “Sticking it to the man? Seriously?” My husband and I fist bumped and laughed until tears nearly streamed down our faces.

Our kids are now convinced that Cal and I are insane. I suspect that they’re wheeling and dealing to see who gets stuck with the crazed parents. Poor Ariel, I’m afraid she’s going to get the short straw.