April 3, 2010
Oh happy day... I get to be counted.
Like most Americans who check their mailbox once a decade, I eventually noticed the little form in my cluttered box. It's time to join the masses and get census-ed!
It was, as the sole resident in my apparently too-fascinating-to-be-missed house, a fairly short form to complete. I had only to answer about myself, a relatively simple request. But I fear my place in the universe still eludes me.
Is it bad that I lied on question # 4?
They want my phone number in case 'we don't understand an answer.' Considering they're multiple choice, what's not to understand? Plus, I'm thinking... telelmarketers are bad enough, so why give the US Government permission to text me at all hours? Don't get me wrong, I like Obama, but I don't need him to call me at 3 am for my opinion on foreign policy. My views on Israel/Palastine relations get fuzzy without enough beauty sleep.
Having debated whether to use a write-in option for gender and listing my age as negative two, I finally mailed the little beast, which will ensure local funding and appropriate seats in Congress. Thus my life is made infinitely better in ten short questions because they now know that I rent...