My project for today was supposed to be prepare the guest room for Grandpa's arrival from Chicago tomorrow morning and finish the transcript that I have not started yet.
What I actually did today was go to the DMV to renew my expired tags. I took a number, waited for my turn. And when it was my turn? I found out that I needed an emissions test. Crap. So it is off to the emissions test place, on the other side of town, I go. The good news is, while I was at the DMV I remembered (when I saw the sign) that they are cash and check only, no debit cards. And I am out of checks. So I asked how much the tag renewal would be. $57. OK. Good to know when you need cash.
I had my emissions test ($15) (passed!) and hit the ATM on my way back to the DMV. Got $60 cash and took a new number, waited my turn. And when it was my turn? Turns out I needed an emissions test AND new plates. And my $57 total is now $74. Huh? I was gone for 40 minutes and my total went from $57 to $74 because the first person who "helped me" didn't realize I needed new plates and didn't include that in the price. Does this kind of shit only happen to me?
I had to go back out to the ATM, come back to the DMV, take a number and wait my turn. I half expected my total to now be $107 for whatever half-baked reason. But it held firm at $74.
So there went the first half of my day. And I have spent $89 on tags/plates/emissions. And still have the $216 ticket to pay. ARE WE HAVING FUN YET?
Now for the sick part of my story. And by sick I don't mean, "yo, dog, that's sick!" kind of sick, but "oh my god, woman, you are sick. seek help" kind of sick.
Background, Part 1: Seven years ago, Tim and I both got cars. Not at the same time, but within months of each other. Not brand new, but both late model, very lightly used, just as good as new. And somehow, through some weird quirk of whatever, we had almost the exact same license plate numbers. In fact, we had the same exact numbers, but with two transposed. So for example, if mine was 310 XPR, his was 301 XPR. And we didn't get the cars at the same exact time, or register them together, or anything. How freaky is that?
So with my strange number compulsion, I attached great significance to this. It has to mean SOMETHING, right?
Background, Part 2: When Carlie and I flew home from New Orleans, Tim picked us up at the airport in his very nondescript champagne/beige Honda Accord. That car? Is the next best thing to invisible, it is so generic. There are millions of them everywhere. And they all look alike. So Carlie says, Look, there's dad! And I said, No, that's not Dad. The license plate is wrong. And then? Tim gets out of the car. And I'm all DUDE, WTF? Why do you have a different license plate? And he said the DMV made him get new ones when he renewed his tags (and on a side note, notice that his tags got renewed and mine didn't. Hmmm.)
Being the freak that I am, I was distressed by this. Because? Matching license plates. All of that huge cosmic significance of the last seven years was for naught? That can't be right.
And so today, when I was informed I have had my plates for seven years and must get new ones, with a new number, I actually got upset. I do still have enough sanity/dignity/self control to exhibit minimal symptoms of my freakish upset in public, but by the time I got to my car, I was having an internal freak out. OVER THE NUMBERS ON A LICENSE PLATE? Because? I have no idea. But it just DIDN'T FEEL OKAY.
I am losing my mind. It is official.