I don’t know about you, but I finally sat down last night and did my freaking census. I was so tired of being nagged about it! (What I don’t understand is, if you’re supposed to say who was in your mansion/apartment/shack/house on April 1, how do you do the census before April 1? Things can turn on a dime in the Doll household, is all I’m saying. But I digress.)
Now, along with the incessant harping from the federal government to send back our census forms, and the shaming and guilt-tripping that ensues when we don’t (what are you, our mother?), we can look forward to hordes of pushy schoolchildren (remember Reese Witherspoon’s genius turn as Tracy Flick in Election?) instructing us on what, when, and where to sign.
Because, you know, in a tough economy, it makes sense to train our kids to do something that will employ them only once every 10 years.
P.S.: The form was actually quite easy, and took less than the estimated 10 minutes. In fact, the hardest thing was closing and licking the postage-paid envelope. I think I cut my face in the process.