Okay, so I may not have a village. I may not have a tribe, a husband, a wife, a domestic partner or an Alice but, dammit, I do have a Wiggins. And do you hear that? That aria that sounds like the fat lady had too much tequila before stepping on stage? That's me singing his praises.
I first met Wiggins when he was our accountant at Main Street Movie Co. After he and his wife moved back east we never stopped bitching about his absence - since every freaking person we hired after him just wasn't... him. BUT - for the past 6-7 years the blessed angel has done my taxes for me. Because he is sweet as hell and I am ridiculously inept. Of course, considering I make slightly over $14.37 per year it hasn't been too hard for him. But still, it has been huge for me. Unbelievably appreciated. And I love him for it.
So, while Johnny Depp still isn't returning my phone calls, Wiggins is. And he is smart and kind and tall and has beautiful eyes and an amazing smile and clearly loves charity work. Bless him. No, ladies I am not pimping Wiggins out - although he is definitely something no single woman should be without. I am very lucky.
My taxes are done. [Sigh.] Now if I could only find someone to fix my toilet that has broken for the 5th time this year - has already been fixed by one fire fighter, one Juiceman, one sexy musician and one son - and has suddenly decided to masquerade as a bidet...
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