It's that time of year again.
(What time of year? You ask.)
I know it when my phone starts ringing/beeping/vibrating several times a day and I don't recognize any of the numbers - because my cell number is one digit off from our local H&R Block.
(H & R Block, how much do you pay your secretaries? I ask.)
The calls don't bother me much, but I am always intrigued when I get voicemails that go something like this: "Hi, my name is _______________ and I was calling to set up an appointment to get my taxes done. You can call me back at ___________."
Because what part of "Hi, this is Rachel's phone, sorry I missed you" is hard to understand?
The Mayor (a former co-worker of mine, nicely enough) called me Friday to ask if I would like to be on the Housing Authority Board for the City. "You must have impressed somebody," he said.
(Or 210 people, I thought.)
I think I'll do it. Even though -or maybe because- I don't actually own a home here. Yet.