One of my Dad’s absolutely favorite things was standing in line (or sitting, because it was a line of automobiles) at the post office at midnight on tax day, waiting to file his return. And the prize (ah, the prize!) was being so far back in the line that his returns didn’t get dropped into the box until after midnight, but the post office would postmark them on the 15th anyway because, well, after all there was a line. And he was in it.
His granddaughter is a tax accountant. Apparently it skips a generation.
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