Filing Myself To Death

Somewhere about October 2003, I stopped filing. Every month I’d pay my bills, and I’d pile the paid bills along with invoices, tax receipts, and the other leftovers of everyday business life in a big “to be filed” pile on my desk.

But the “to be filed” day never came.

The business was audited by Revenue Canada. I went to San Francisco. Then Boston. Then Montreal. Then Boston again. Did a lot of work. Created a lot of web pages. Even went to the beach once.

But the filing never happened.

Eventually the “to be filed” pile grew into two, then three “to be filed” piles. On the floor. Hidden in the closet.

Finally the potential energy of the growing piles grew overwhelming: something had to be done.

So today I fueled up with an Iced Cowpuccino from COWS, gritted my teeth, and went on a file-a-thon.

As I type this, it’s 10:50 p.m. on Sunday night. And the piles are gone.