I traveled 45 days, and then lived in a temporary residence for another two months.  It corresponded with the decennial census taking, not to be confused with the refrigerator cleaning that takes place every 10 years.  Finally, I found a very nice place to call home in Denver, where every day I pinch myself to make sure I'm not just dreaming that I live in the most beautiful city in the greatest country in the history of civilization.  

Being transient has its drawbacks and benefits, but I felt it was my civic duty and a legal responsibility to answer the census questionnaire.  I went to the website, which was useless for providing me a point of contact.  For grins and giggles, I figured I'd ask Google, because Lord knows they're smarter than the government.  There, I found my answer, and not only that, but the census office is on my very street!  Not really — you kave to understand the road names in Denver to realize that Denver has only 12 street names that they just keep repeating over again.

I called, and a woman named Laurie answered with great bureaucratic authority.  And kindly said, no thank you.

It was a strange call, and I thought afterward that I should have used an alias.  After all, I'm a census evader.  The conversation with the Census Bureau would have sounded something like this:

CB:   Good morning, Census Bureau.  This is Laurie.
OBL:   Good morning, Laurie.  This is Osama Bin Laden, and I'm hoping you can help me with a problem.
CB:   I can try.  How can I help you, Mr. Laden.
OBL:   I was traveling, and unable to receive my mail forwarded to my cave in the mountains of Pakistan.  Now that I've set up permanent residence in the United States, I'd like to participate in your Census 2010.
CB:   What is your ZIP code, Mr. Bin Laden?
OBL:   It's the same as yours at the Census Bureau.
CB:   Well, the deadline for that has already passed.
OBL:      I know.  But it is my civic duty to report where I live so that my elected officials will have more government subsidies for local porkbarrel projects for the next decade.
CB:   Yes, that is true, but you don't need to send in the form.
OBL:   Really?  Well how do I make sure that I am counted among you infidels.
CB:   I'm not an infidel, I'm a Gemini.  But you need not worry, we will find you.
OBL:   Right, well let me give you my new address.
CB:   No, Mr. Laden.  That won't be necessary.  We have census takers who will be going door to door.
OBL:   Well, let me give you my location.  My dwelling is very hard to find.
CB:   Nope.  We'll find you.  Our census taker will knock on your door and ask you to take a brief 10-question survey.  Winners will be randomly drawn for a gift certificate to Applebees.
OBL:   I love Applebee's!
CB:   Everybody does.  So, you see, Mr. Laden, there is nothing to worry about.
OBL:   But what if I'm not at home.
CB:     We'll come back.
OBL:   But I'm very rarely home.
CB:   We'll keep coming back.  At all different hours of the day and night, Mr. Laden.
OBL:   Are you sure it wouldn't be easier to just send me a form that I can mail back?
CB:     Sir, we have a process.  And that includes an army of census takers who trudge door to door with their 10-part questionnaires.
OBL:      You have an army?
CB:   Yes we do, Mr. Laden.
OBL:   I have an army, too.
CB:   That's nice, but that's not one of the questions.
OBL:   None of them have completed the census form, either.
CB:   That's okay.  We will find them.
OBL:   There are many of them.
CB:   Sir, we have many census takers, as well.  They are like ants at a picnic.
OBL:   Okay, well, I suppose there is nothing more that I can do except wait for one of your census takers to find me.
CB:   That's right, Mr. Laden.  Now you have a nice day.
(click)

I bet they use Google, too.