Sometimes I think the IRS does me a favor. Amidst the rush for last minute gifts and the dismay from scorched Christmas cookies, comes the mailing address label to attach to my Income Tax form. Despite the fact that I must keep this tiny label in a safe place until February or March, and it must not get mixed with the Christmas mail, it's a reminder that life does go on after Christmas.
I need this kind of reminder as I frantically scramble to find the appropriate card to send to those I've scratched from my Christmas card list, when I suddenly discover the scratching wasn't reciprocal.
I need this kind of affirmation when I realize I forgot the stocking stuffers, and all the cute little gizmos have been swallowed up by on-the-ball, day-after-Thanksgiving shoppers.
I need this kind of prophetical knowledge when cousin Kathryn arrives unexpectedly with her three kids and Aunt Cornelia, to spend an overnight rest stop on their way to Fresno.
Who cares that my brain is signaling Christmas overload and the surprise package I have hidden remains hidden? That little label staunchly reminds me that some things stand unchanged, life does go on after Christmas, and my IRS will always be there for me.
Paulita
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