Tax Day, Bad Day

Oh, getting money back, it's just the damn numbers that depress me.
It's a wonder I eat.
Fish grilling on the Foreman, it wasn't too frozen, not sure how long it'll take. 
No, no, no, next, continue, no, next.
"Really?" the online tax form screams.  "Nothing has changed in your life? This is all you've done?"
"...yes."
"Did you put your age correctly?"
Save the form and check the fish. 
Not like I'll get the money any sooner, should have gone on a walk instead. 
I scrape the burnt scraps of fish off my Foreman, thinking of my refund.