I’m so pleased with myself that I can’t even contain my glee. At least, I think it’s glee, although that seems like too strong a word for whatever it is I’m not containing. What’s the next step down the scale from glee? Delight? If it were glee, I think I could contain it. Delight, probably not necessary. There’s not a lot of leakage anyway. Delight isn’t that potent.

And why would I even want to contain my delight, except that it’s embarrassing to be delighted about something as inconsequential (in the grand scheme, that is, assuming there is one) as finishing the quarterly tax returns. Maybe it’s that embarrassment that I should be trying to contain. Just thinking about it makes me not quite so delighted, although I’m still pleased.

It’s not just myself that I’m pleased with, of course. I had to do the work, so most of the glory should fall in a gentle mantle around my shoulders. But I have to be satisfied (in a neutral sort of a way) that the universe cooperated and events conspired to allow me to do the work. If the phone and fax hadn’t been relatively quiet, I’d be complaining tonight instead of basking. So: huzzah, world.

As always, there’s a caveat. Or maybe it’s a disclaimer. Yeah, that’s what it is, a disclaimer. Sure, I did all the payroll and sales taxes for the company today. But that’s half the job. I now have to depend on the same kind of luck a second day in a row, so I can do the taxes for the kennel tomorrow. And since I don’t keep all the books for the kennel, I have to depend on others for the input.

But I’m part owner, right? I’m the boss? Kind of? So they’d better by gum get crackin’ and give me what I need, or somebody is going to be a little less delighted. There will be no joy (or glee) in Mudville, and you can count on that. If you can count on anything.

I think that was actually a caveat, not a disclaimer.