Tax Day

I was sitting at the post office today. Tax Day apparently. When I pulled my little number out of the red-round-justice-and-order-number-dispensing-thinger it said, 26. The wall said – now serving 80.

Well crap, its not my fault I had to go buy 1200 stamps for work on the second busiest postal day of the year. So I walk to the coffee shop, grab some caffeine, a copy of the onion and settle in (by the time i get back we’ve progressed to 87).

So there’s bajillion people jammed in to this sorry excuse for a strip-mall post office – two clerks working the counter, several screaming children and a general air of financial anxiety as all these Westlake residents collectively stew in fear for their SUV’s, 15-car garages, and the future of little Johnie Jr’s trust-fund (Westlake is where Austin’s hippy-shtick slams into a brick wall off modern yuppieism). Amidst all this I hit upon my horoscope:

Thank you, onion staff for putting my post office experience into perspective, and indeed, summing up the last few weeks so succinctly. You are the Shakespears of our time.