I’m collecting the census forms now and looking forward to being paid. The tax-man will take most of my pay with an evil cackle, but I might finally afford an interview suit and I’m watching last minute holiday offers in the hope we could nip away for a week in the sun somewhere.
The sun, of course, vanishes each time I go out to collect the darn forms and yes, they’re twice as heavy in my satchel now as they were when I was delivering them last month. It must be the weight of the ink in the answers.
The only time I’ve been dry in the last week was during the collection training day at the hotel. The Enumerators assembled, somewhat less dramatically than the Avengers team (fewer capes and mythical hammers), i...
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