It's 18:30, and I'm waiting for a tax client coming at 19:00. His stuff is all done, and he just needs to pick and pay. I should probably vacuum before they get here.
I've been working through all day today - not laboring intensively or anything, but just getting it done all day. I pumped out about 15 pieces of mail, got a bunch of paper off my desks, got myself lined out for future work, did some cleaning and organizing, found that Max sells recycled toner cartridges for my printer at $20 off retail, blah, blah, blah. Tomorrow needs to be another very productive day.
I determined today that my favorite client is NOT the same person that I had nudie pics of from someone in New Orleans. Well, I still think it's him, but he says it's not. He did admit to being friskier in his youth. That was, of course, only a few years ago.
Yesterday, if I blogged, I had a call from the lad with the 18" biceps. He brought over his GORGEOUS girlfriend; she has an amazing figure, great hair, beautiful face, everything going on - for a loan application. While she was sitting there talking to me about her loan, he was making eyes and trying to flirt (marketing?)
Anyway, today, I called over there to tell her that I had worked up her loan and was sending her a packet of information - he answered (and his name is NOT Will, according to the DPS) and blah, blah asked if I was going out tonight? No, not that I know of. I did allow that he could call later if he chose to.
Okay, tax client here, gone and paid. Now, is the married guy coming by (as he says he is,) or should I just go hit dinner with Chuckeroo?
Dinner wins. Chuck wins. Enough already.
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