Tax Time

It's almost tax time and past time for me to get a Social Security card for Quin.
For obvious reasons, I've been avoiding the Social Security Office.

I was down and around the office today and decided today was the day. I would go home tonight with a number for Quin.

I was even practicing my mental exercises that I learned from The Secret. It was going to happen. If love and gratitude can part seas, I can surely get a social security card for my baby.

I pull in and parked super fast, so the guy in back of me would not get the next number in line.
Run up to the door, walk in and grab a number.

I still had my lunch in my purse, so I figured I better take the "no food or drink" sign on the door seriously. I walked outside where I could eat in peace and feel the cool spring wind on my face.

I eat. I relax. I'm at the Social Security Office. I have a number. I have and hour and a half. I'm so set. I'm so going to file my taxes tonight.

I walk back inside, find am empty seat and ponder for a second on the 11x14 glossy they have of George W. on the wall.



I look down at my number: 90.

ok, so there is one window open. That's fine. I'm still in the zone. I will have my card today and knew the girl behind the glass was feeling the exact energy I was mystifying on everyone.

I better ask what number they are on. From the looks of things and from past experience, I guesstimate 15 minutes per number. You have to account for the small breaks they take in between each customer.

Still fine. I have an hour and a half.

I decide the girl next to me is cool because she is text messaging the quick way (which I just learned how to do from my new neighbor across the street).

I very politely tell her I have 90 and ask her if she knows what number they called last.

"uhm, yeah, they just called 62".

I laughed so hard and so fast that I snorted on the inhale.

I got up, (still laughing) and threw my number in the trash. I walked out to my car and took The Secret back to the store and made it back to the office just in time.

Taxes will have to wait, yet again.
I'm not sure when, in the next 1000 years, I will have the time or the patience to wait for 28 numbers to be called ahead of me.

I'll have to see if Randy will go.