Forms, glorious forms.

Like about 99% of the population, I hate filling out forms. HATE. IT. Seriously, it makes me break out in hives just holding them. If you belong to that 1% who actually enjoys it, you're weird. No, really. You need to go look at some ink blots or something.

Then, come over to my house, because I have a job for you.

My Canadian passport is expiring in less than a month, and although I've had the renewal forms for about 6 months now, I have yet to fill them out. Because we all know that forms of ANY type are terrible things, but government forms are the worst. You know that when your forms come with instructions on how to fill out the forms, you're in trouble.

I think I've mostly procrastinated because filling these forms out takes the sort of concentration that a chemist making a very volatile concoction needs. One mistake and it's all over. Trying to do this type of stuff while you have a toddler running around intent on destroying your house, is no easy task. And I just knew at some point I would do this:

GIVEN NAME: J ¦ O ¦ A ¦ N ¦ E ¦ L ¦ I ¦ S ¦ E ¦ S ¦ T ¦ O¦ P ¦ I¦ T¦ N¦ O ¦ W¦

But when my Mom was here a few weeks ago, I though it would be a perfect time to give myself an ulcer finally complete the forms while my Mom entertained Elise.

The shrieking began about about three or four questions in; "what the crap do they mean former surname? I've given them my maiden name and my married name... I have nothing more to give. What do these people want from me? How can I have three last names? I need a drink!"

So for sanity's sake, I decided to skip that section (you know, the one where I need to know my own name) for the time being, and went onto some questions I could definitely get right.

Birthday: too easy!

Sex: yes please! (does that one ever get old?)

Then I got to the part where they outlined what ID I would need to send in along with my application. And when I discovered that I owned none of them, the shrieking commenced again at full volume. I swear I saw birds flock to they sky. This time I will not quote my exact words.

Right before I started hyperventilating, my Mom suggested I call the passport office and see what they suggest. Because phoning a government office would make me less irate, wouldn't it?

But since it was my only option, I called. I almost had a heart attack when all I had to do was press 0, and the automated system immediately directed my call to an operator. Even more surprising was the fact that I only waited on hold for about two minutes.

But what really made my jaw drop to the floor is that the person I talked to was nice, knowledgeable and helpful. Sweet-mother-of-all-things-holy, was this really the government I was talking to? I had to look out my window to see if it was snowing in Dallas, or if there were swine elegantly gliding through the air.

The answers were no and no, respectively. And the kind, could-not-be-a-government-employee lady made me swoon further when she told me that I didn't need to fill out the long, cumbersome form that I was presently trying to muddle through. There was a shorter, easier form available on-line. And because I met a bunch of certain requirements, I didn't need to send any of my ID.

Joy!

So, I'm presently procrastinating on filling out yet another form, and writing this post instead. Because although this form is indeed shorter and better, it still has that worrisome "former surname" question.

And let the shrieking begin...