Fear of the blue letter

There it is, among my pile of mail. I usually find regular mail a celebration, the effort is evident (someone has indeed scoured from the store to home to the mailbox for you), but the blue one with the transparent window is not. As in: it makes me feel suffocatingly anxious. I toss it into the cabinet with great throwing skill or hide it under other piles.

Now you might be thinking: huh, a blue letter? You never get those anymore? That's what I mean. If you receive one, it is particularly bad. Then you're the one in trouble, the victim, the fool (pardon my French) and the sucker. Hi, I'm Adeline the Sucker Fool, because I haven't received just one blue letter but two. And I haven't opened either of them yet, for your information. Even though one says: ‘open immediately’. Really, how much fear can you instill in a person?

Tax office a.k.a. we can't make it more fun, but we can certainly make it significantly scarier. I panic from your letters. That bluish color, the material of the envelope (feel it, it's different), the variation in colors on the letter (if you dared to open it), the crinkling of the transparent reading window... It gives me mail-avoiding behavior.

Recently, the accountant has entered my life. We get along very well, I file my tax returns on time and enter my receipts neatly into the system (an hour before I have an appointment with him). He sends me invoices, which I try to pay on time. If I don't, I get friendly reminders saying: ‘you must have just forgotten’. And indeed, I am that, a lazy slacker that I am. He also impresses upon me when leaving his kitchen (which serves as an office) that I must transfer the whole shebang to my friends at the Tax Office within a week. Just to keep things fresh. I forget that again and so you get these situations plus mail-avoiding scenes. the whole shebang to my friends at the Tax Office. Just to keep things fresh. I forget that again and so you get these situations plus mail-avoiding scenes.

Actually, I don't even dare to go home now and I'm thinking about working late into the night. Or just diving straight into a pub and then waddling to the bedroom late tonight. Really, after two bottles, I don't think about a blue letter anymore. But it's time to be grown up. Adult, if it must be. I'll just do it. Tomorrow I'll open those two idiots, I promise. I think.