The Day I Disappeared

Like following the ingredients list for recipes, I am very good at following directions on forms. They always come out perfectly. I think it’s because I find it somewhat soothing and fulfilling to do busy work that requires minimal braincell output, but results in completed forms! Every “i” is dotted, every “t” is crossed. I would have made an excellent paper pusher. But all of my beautiful work went to pot today when the following message kept coming up every time I tried to submit my form:picture-2.jpg. Yup, apparently I no longer know who I am on my forms, let alone in my life. So, I followed the directions. I double-checked my driver’s license, “check.” I looked at my social security card, “check.” My passport, “check.” My Time Out subscription sticker, “check.” Clearly, everyone else seems to know who I am — even Time Warner and Con Ed manage to find me every month, but for some reason, I can’t be found in an online form system that will help me pay for Grad School … hmm … that just seems all tooconvenient.

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