I woke up with a list of things I wanted to accomplish yesterday. I spent 20 or so minutes lying in bed, slapping the snooze button and shooing away pestering cats, going over the day in my head.
It was going to go something like: morning routine (shower, tea, blog, breakfast) with a few minor Christmas-related packaging/present stuff then off to the post office, the DMV, work, then babysitting, then the grocery store, craft store and home to craft. I was going to get stuff done!
Oh Sizzle, you optimist. You’re about to get your bubble burst.
I managed to get one package out in the mail (look for it Dumpling and Jersey Girl!) so I was feeling rather accomplished as I made my way to the Department of Licensing. I got there, took my number and perused the driving pamphlet while I waited for my turn. And then I waited some more. 45 minutes after I had finished reading the booklet from front to back, I was still sitting there. I should have brought my knitting. I could have been getting things done. I was bored out of my mind.
I finally got called up to the counter by a female employee who seemed less than enthused to assist me. I greeted her and told her I needed a Washington driver’s license. She let a few moments pass as I stood there waiting for her to say something to me like what I was supposed to do next. I finally asked her. Her response was something like, “It’d help to see your picture ID for starters.”
Uh, okay. Am I supposed to read your mind? I need a license for the first time in this state and you expect me to just KNOW everything you need from me? After we fill out a bunch of paperwork she asks me for proof of residency.
Yeah, I didn’t bring any utility bill or anything with me. “Ma’am I cannot issue you a license without proof of residency,” she says with exasperation in her voice. Like I was even suggesting she just let it slide. Her attitude wasn’t making my foible any easier to bear.
So I drove all the way back home to find the proof and then turned around and went right back to her. I get to the counter. She types some stuff. I write a check. She asks to see my ID again.
I can’t find it.
My purse is the size of a small country with only one pocket. It’s not the smartest purchase I have ever made but nevermind that. I can’t find the damn license though I KNOW she handed it back to me the first time I was at the counter.
I feel like an idiot. I run out to my car and half-way there realize it is in my back pocket. I get back to her counter and say, “Ever have one of those days where you wish you had stayed in bed because nothing is going right?” She responds, “Yeah. Today.”
That makes two of us, lady.
I missed most of work because I was dealing with that mess (from arrival the first time to leaving the second time it took 2.5 hours). I manage to put in an hour at the office before I went over to babysit. I arrived about 30 minutes early but Dokey and Finn weren’t there. So I made myself a quesadilla and tried to calm down.
Finn and I ran an errand during our afternoon together. Normally, we’re stuck at home since I don’t have a carseat in my car but me being the let’s-try-to-accomplish -multiple-things-simultaneously kind of freakazoid, I convinced Dokey to put the seat in my car. Off to the craft store we went where Finn helped me pick out yarn and beads and buttons. He has excellent taste, that nephew of mine.
Right as I turned onto their street, he fell fast asleep, so we hung out in the car for 45 minutes while he napped. Upon waking, I made him a grilled cheese which he gobbled up while simultaneously farting (oh kids!). Then I went home to burn my own dinner and try to relax.
I never did manage relax, honestly, but I did get 8.5 hours of sleep. That should help, right?
“Come on baby/Now throw me a right to the chin/Don’t just stare like you never cared/I know you did/You just smiled/ Like a bank teller/Telling me blankly, have a nice life. . .” -Selfless, Cold and Composed, Ben Folds