That does it.

I want to go to Indianapolis again.

But only if I can be 15 years old, too.

Oh, for the carefree days of not worrying about how to explain to a client that, despite the fact that they are paying for us to take care of their Tax Stuff, we won’t do anything about their Fearsome Tax Notice until we are damned good and ready.

(No longer sure if mahnewjobiscoolis).