6.08 pm (CST): I pour myself a big glass of 2004 Fox Creek Sauvignon Blanc and reflect that it would be irresponsible to have more than about two of these while I'm filling in the form.
6.09 pm: Maybe three.
6.10: I wonder what stats they've already got by now on the number of people who are too stupid or inattentive to realise that they are supposed to do it TONIGHT, NOT LAST WEEK OR THE WEEK BEFORE, YOU MORONS.
6.11: The wine is not quite what it should be. I re-think my position on screw caps and switch to a pinot grigio that suggests a combination of not-quite-ripe-pears and granite, which is more like it.
6.13: Online or paper? Paper. Blue or black? Blue.
6.15: I make a mistake with the very first question, writing my street number in the 'Flat or apartment number' box. I take back what I said about morons at 6.10. Also, two glasses of wine might be better.
6.29: I'm bored, and only up to page 12. It would be more fun if I made up the answers, but the cumulative effect of ratbags making up the answers is that people who definitely need all kinds of services may not get them. Back to it.
6.31: I have now written down my name and address twice and it was no fun either time. There are boxes for the name (if any) of one's house. I consider giving my house a name. Emoh Ruo? Avalon? Chez Furball?
6.41: Is that all there is?
I'm sure I remember it being more interesting than that. Oh well. But I still like the idea that all over the country tonight, everyone is doing the same thing, working in these divisive times on what is, for once, a common endeavour. I imagine a kind of Google Earth point of view where I can look with my X-ray vision down through people's roofs and see them sitting at the computer or the desk or the kitchen table, sweltering in Broome or shivering in Launceston, calling out things like Oi, Person 2, how many hours of unpaid housework and gardening did you do this week?
Oh, you did not.
*....., ....., ....., ....., ....., ....., ..... and ......*
Oh. Right. I'll put that then.