The Disability

Come to find out, I might not receive a paycheck with the rest of the workers tomorrow. Forms were to be filled out and somehow no one realizes that I work here again so they never gave them to me. I go to the big office to remedy the situation. Once there, I don't know how to fill out the tax forms, having a somewhat severe case of FormLD. I tell the woman I have to take the forms home and she cheerfully tells me, "I hope you'll have them back this afternoon. I really want you to get paid."
"Thanks, so much, I'd like that too!" I chirp back at her, hoping she gets the sarcasm.
My father-the-tax-man talks me down and walks me through exemptions and allowances. Husbandman offers to return the forms back to the big office for me. I think he has a sense that I might not get the job done right. He's nice about it, but he just has to mention that he's told me to check on the payment situation several times. I tend to be an optimist about these things, or maybe I'm just an inept slacker (when it comes to forms). It's hard to tell.