It's a year evenly divisible by 10, and that means one thing in the United States: they're taking the census.
The MTV generation is not necessarily young, but they must be running the 2010 Census. Two weeks or so ago we got a letter that told us the census form was coming! Be on the lookout for it! Your reply is important to us, something like that. Just like my call on hold.
To get a notice that told me something was coming reminded me of the magnets that still haven't been taken off the refrigerator, reminding my daughter that a wedding invitation was on its way. Well, it got here, the couple got married, even have children by now, but the Save-the-Date magnet still adorns the icebox door, just below the ALCATRAZ magnet. I wouldn't make this up.
The census form sat on my desk for a week, but I just completed it. It looked more imposing than it turned out to be. Also, the memory of Census Past kept me from opening it up right away.
Knowing the government, there might be long-form and a short-form. I guess maybe we got a short-form because it only asked seven questions about each person who lived at our address. There must have been something on file about our address when they did the 2000 census because they kept contacting us, and coming back because they had someone living at 33 1/2, supposedly another building on our property. It finally got straightened out when I wearily offered to take them to the backyard and point to two nearly collapsing sheds that held the usual stuff, but no people.
Since then though we've had a nice shed built that resembles a small building, complete with a full size door, window and electricity. In my whimsical nature I even put up house numbers:
33 1/2. God, I hope they come by again.
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