try and try again, universe

Apparently, The Universe read my post yesterday and, following my profound revelation that ‘it’s the little things that make me happy,’ decided to turn those Little Things against me.

Such an endeavour, Universe, such a valiant endeavour.

It seems The Universe has discovered a way to militarize The Little Things and they are now mobilizing.

How does one turn pay-day against a civil servant? Only by taxing the Be-Jesus out of your overtime pay! Hey, Universe, that money already made its way into my holiday budget. Now someone in my family is getting one less silk-screened kitten sweatshirt this Christmas and it’s all your fault.

Thanks, Universe. That was a nice little Fuck you for the holidays.

"I'm The Universe and I'm here to fuck your shit up."

At first I felt ripped off (and still kinda do), but then I suddenly felt like a selfish brat for complaining about my #firstworldproblems.

It’s not like the strife of a Canadian government employee having to pay an extra dose of income tax whilst enjoying all the benefits of healthcare and highways is sure to elicit sympathy. Also, I’m pretty sure I was a socialist once upon a time. Now I’m firing off angry emails and gossiping in a bitchy tone of voice. That’s the bureaucratic equivalent of flaming pitchforks and a mob chant. I want my money, dangnabbit.

Wow. Now that I think about it, I’m come a long way from what I always dreamed I would be by the time I reached twenty-eight.

Thanks, Universe. It’s no easy feat to turn pay-day into an existential, navel-gazing crisis.

Okay, maybe you will crush me, Universe.

It guess it wasn’t that hard after all.

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