Police, DMV & Storage

Yesterday didn’t turn out exactly like I had planned. I had studied the DMV handbook until I knew every question that might be ask of me on the written test. It was going to be exciting to tell my kids, who think that ” poor mom can’t remember anything anymore” that I passed my test on the first try. The appointment was at 1:30 so, since I am still the type who likes to get to her tests plenty early, we arrive at 1. When we walk in, I notice that certainly, normal people, such as myself (yes, I do like to think of myself as normal, although I’m sure some of you might disagree) had surely hired someone to take their place to avoid standing in the 3 deep 10 foot long line to tell them I was there for my 1:30 appt. Looking around the huge room, all I saw were people that looked like the mug shots that were placed around the walls. Knowing that I had been warned about this certain DMV and what I might encounter, I dressed down in shorts, tshirt and flip flops. That was still to dressy. With no tattoo or face piercing, I truly felt like I stuck out like a blueberry in an apple pie. Finally, the lady behind the bullet proof glass window calls me up and I hand her my Texas DL and she asks me for my passport. What? Passport?, that was never mentioned when I went on-line to see what documents I needed. Because I am married and my name is different than my birth certificate, she informs me that I needed either my passport, or BC and Marriage License. So back to the drawing board. I was so ready to have a new picture taken, I had even had my roots dyed on Fri and Randy was there to stand behind me with his fingers pulling at the skin around my eyes so I would look like I was 50. Now, I will have to relearn the sample tests, as even though I think I remember all the answers, by Friday (which is the first available apt), it’s anybody’s guess if I can remember how many feet I have to have between my car and the car in front of me. Randy felt sorry for me and said he had just the thing to brighten my day. Visions of walking hand in hand into Chico’s brought a smile to my face, that was when he informed me that a Sonic Cherry Coke would be just the thing that would cheer me. So with Chicos in the rearview mirrow, we head to Sonic. While we are there, he tells me that at least we can go to the storage unit and find our summer bedspread. Now that did cheer me up. Our storage unit is, well, let me think how to describe it. We did get a really good deal on the monthly price, and I know why. Our “climate controlled” unit, which is controlled by I guess a 95 year old that thinks 105 degrees is cold, is in the part of the building that is right in the middle of the T (the upper middle of the T,) and the motion light only stays on for about 5 minutes. As Randy is unlocking the huge garage like door, I run down the long hallway so the light will turn on and give us light to start looking through our plastic tubs which holds all our treasures. By the time I got back down the hallway, we had exactly 2 minutes to look before I had to run down the hallway again to get the light to turn on. After about 10 times of this, we still haven’t found the bedspread and we are dripping wet. I suggested that maybe this summer we don’t need a bedspread and we will come back in the winter for our Christmas spread. At least we will be dealing with frostbite instead of heat strokes. We leave. We round the corner only to see the street roped off by police and yellow tape across the entire street. OK, I have to admit, this does get me so pumped up. There is nothing more exciting than car chases and watching arrests being made. News….happening right in front of us. Maybe just maybe, the wife beater shirt we keep in the car just in case Randy ever gets interviewed on camera, might just be coming out of the glove compartment. Since we don’t have a trailer out in the country with a couch on the front porch to stand in front of and we stilI have all our teeth, we always keep the wife beater shirt ready, for any impromptu interviews. I quickly put on lipstick, practiced my “he went that way, officer” when cars behind us began to honk for us to keep on going all the while reminding us that we are still “#1”. Maybe the Texas license plate has something to do with them thinking we are #1, hum… So not only did I not get my license that would make me a legal California Valley girl, I didn’t come home with my summer bedspread and I didn’t get my camera interview. Will let you know how Friday goes. Am taking my dental records with me, just in case I need them.

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