Today Was a Crappy Day
The stench of adulthood wafts in when you hate tax day. Instead of reporting $15 in tips from my Sonic job and a 3 Musketeers wrapper, I've got some income to speak of. I mean, I can't have a long conversation about it, but it's enough to make April 15 dreadful. (Admittedly, I’ve got a number of adult-type personal issues plumping my jowls and etching the lines around my eyes, but don’t we all. Pass the white box wine, Hildegard.)
I don’t recommend calling the feds (1-800-829-1040) or the state (505-827-0827) if you don’t have to. The representatives are cranky at this point and spitting the word “ma’am” like nails from a nailgun.
The main post office in Albuquerque is open until midnight. Good luck!
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