I woke up this morning dreading the main task on my morning agenda...a trip to the Department of Licensing. I braced myself for the worst-case scenario and made arrangements for my friend to pick the Girl up from preschool were I to spend the entire morning in the inevitably long lines that are such a familiar circumstance of the
DOL. Not to mention the certainty of my impending incarceration due to driving for 26 days with an expired license and having never registered my new address with the
DOL per their strict 10-day change-of-address- notification policy after we moved out of J's parents' basement and into our house over four years ago. Which may I add, is why I never received a reminder in the mail notifying me that my license would be expiring soon. It was only when J received his notification in the mail on Friday that I realized mine had expired on my birthday. Anyhow, after dropping the Girl off at preschool this morning, Baby Sister and I headed straight to the nearest
DOL. We arrived an hour after it had opened and as I
retrieved Baby Sister from her carseat and grabbed my bag laden-full of snacks I was already anticipating the line that was surely weaving out the door. But there was no such line and we passed through the breezeway of the building straight to the ticket counter to pluck our number from the machine...number 28. Imagine my surprise when we took our seat among a nearly empty waiting room and noticed that number 26 was currently at the counter and that there were four counters open! What luck! But that didn't give me much time to formulate all the excuses I would surely need for letting my license expire and not having changed my address. While a monotone voice droned, "Number 27 now being served at counter number four," over the loudspeaker I resolved to rely on Baby Sister's cuteness to get me out of my jam. As it turns out, I wouldn't need it. The only sna-fu that I encountered was the vision test where I recited off the letters listed on line number three when the woman behind the counter had asked me to read the letters from line two. Nothing wrong with my vision, I just don't know my number recognition. She didn't seem to care, or even notice that my license had expired nor did she seem concerned that my address had changed. She didn't even ask how long I'd been at my new address. In two short minutes it was all over. No jail time. Not even any fines or additional charges for having let my license expire. Baby Sister and I were in and out of there in ten minutes. It was seriously the least amount of time I've ever spent in the Department of Licensing and the least hassle as well. I'm getting worked up even thinking about my last two trips, once in Denver right after J and I had gotten married to change my name on my license and the last time when we got new licenses after having moved back from Colorado. Both of which involved long wait times and serious hoop-jumping. To say the least I was very pleasantly surprised to be pulling out of the parking lot less than 15 minutes after I had arrived. And so it was a good day. A day in which, instead of being hauled off to lock-up after an extended wait in the DOL, I found myself in the grocery store following Baby Sister around as she toted a two pound block of cheddar through the dairy aisle.
A day in which, my friend picked the Girl up from preschool anyway as we both knew she'd be less than thrilled to see me after the possibility of being picked up by my friend was made known to her. Which brings us to this. I left Baby Sister playing contentedly downstairs while I ran some clean laundry upstairs and gathered some more dirty laundry. After a few minutes I became keenly aware that it had suddenly
gotten too quiet downstairs. We all know what that means. I crept quietly down the first flight of stairs and as I rounded the landing I saw this...Baby Sister playing on the computer. She had abandoned the Little People in favor of pushing the chair over to the counter, climbing up and clicking away on the keys of my laptop. She knew she'd been caught red-handed but she was pleased as punch with herself for accomplishing such a picture-worthy feat. A good day indeed!
I woke up this morning dreading the main task on my morning agenda...a trip to the Department of Licensing. I braced myself for the worst-case scenario and made arrangements for my friend to pick the Girl up from preschool were I to spend the entire morning in the inevitably long lines that are such a familiar circumstance of the DOL. Not to mention the certainty of my impending incarceration due to driving for 26 days with an expired license and having never registered my new address with the DOL per their strict 10-day change-of-address- notification policy after we moved out of J's parents' basement and into our house over four years ago. Which may I add, is why I never received a reminder in the mail notifying me that my license would be expiring soon. It was only when J received his notification in the mail on Friday that I realized mine had expired on my birthday. Anyhow, after dropping the Girl off at preschool this morning, Baby Sister and I headed straight to the nearest DOL. We arrived an hour after it had opened and as I retrieved Baby Sister from her carseat and grabbed my bag laden-full of snacks I was already anticipating the line that was surely weaving out the door. But there was no such line and we passed through the breezeway of the building straight to the ticket counter to pluck our number from the machine...number 28. Imagine my surprise when we took our seat among a nearly empty waiting room and noticed that number 26 was currently at the counter and that there were four counters open! What luck! But that didn't give me much time to formulate all the excuses I would surely need for letting my license expire and not having changed my address. While a monotone voice droned, "Number 27 now being served at counter number four," over the loudspeaker I resolved to rely on Baby Sister's cuteness to get me out of my jam. As it turns out, I wouldn't need it. The only sna-fu that I encountered was the vision test where I recited off the letters listed on line number three when the woman behind the counter had asked me to read the letters from line two. Nothing wrong with my vision, I just don't know my number recognition. She didn't seem to care, or even notice that my license had expired nor did she seem concerned that my address had changed. She didn't even ask how long I'd been at my new address. In two short minutes it was all over. No jail time. Not even any fines or additional charges for having let my license expire. Baby Sister and I were in and out of there in ten minutes. It was seriously the least amount of time I've ever spent in the Department of Licensing and the least hassle as well. I'm getting worked up even thinking about my last two trips, once in Denver right after J and I had gotten married to change my name on my license and the last time when we got new licenses after having moved back from Colorado. Both of which involved long wait times and serious hoop-jumping. To say the least I was very pleasantly surprised to be pulling out of the parking lot less than 15 minutes after I had arrived. And so it was a good day. A day in which, instead of being hauled off to lock-up after an extended wait in the DOL, I found myself in the grocery store following Baby Sister around as she toted a two pound block of cheddar through the dairy aisle.
A day in which, my friend picked the Girl up from preschool anyway as we both knew she'd be less than thrilled to see me after the possibility of being picked up by my friend was made known to her. Which brings us to this. I left Baby Sister playing contentedly downstairs while I ran some clean laundry upstairs and gathered some more dirty laundry. After a few minutes I became keenly aware that it had suddenly
gotten too quiet downstairs. We all know what that means. I crept quietly down the first flight of stairs and as I rounded the landing I saw this...Baby Sister playing on the computer. She had abandoned the Little People in favor of pushing the chair over to the counter, climbing up and clicking away on the keys of my laptop. She knew she'd been caught red-handed but she was pleased as punch with herself for accomplishing such a picture-worthy feat. A good day indeed!
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