So, anyway, yesterday I kicked ass. It was my own ass, but an ass nevertheless.
In the last move, I was still clinging to some safety issues and I chose to notify every need-to-know person, company, entity of the move personally. I made a lot of phone calls and fielded almost as many inquiries about why I did not simply create a change of address with the postal service. Well, if you are still stuck on something as ridiculous as personal safety, you do not do that post office notice.
It really does work well, but my auto license plate tag renewal fell through one of the abysses and, on the way home from work and the library Thursday night, I found myself on the receiving end of many brightly colored flashing lights, a huge SUV and a lively driver who was not St. Nick, but one of our village's cops.
He wished me a happy holiday and asked if I knew why he had pulled me over. Of course, I had not a clue and confessed to the same. You have to confess when dealing with cops. I think it might even be an actual law when you get pulled over.
He told me that I had expired tags and then asked to see my driver's license and proof of insurance. Well, I help myself properly, but inwardly I was thinking, 'well, I have this part solid'.
Driver's license, sure. Insurance card, nope.
He let me go with two papers that suggested that it would be nice if I could, should I feel like it, you know, get that registration updated and find something that proved that I was properly insured, vehicle-wise.
I detoured to fetch my meds from the pharmacy, went home, made a wee martini (have to confess that it was not we) and went online to do both of those things. The insurance was easy. Apparently I chose to go paperless when I renewed my car and renter's insurance last March and, also apparently, when you do that, the insurance company does not send you a card/proof/plastic thing. If you want, you can print a card or request to have one specially sent, neither of which I did.
At least it is a weird kind of proof that I did not need proof, as I have not had the pleasure of being stopped by cops in a couple of years, so ten months of not having a physical proof of insurance did me no harm or inconvenience.
I had the insurance card image sent to my phone, and I loaded it onto my Hello Kitty flash drive. Covered.
When I went to the DMV web site, I discovered that I could not renew my auto license tags on-line because it was one of the alternate years when you have to present yourself and your vehicle in person to have an emission test to make sure that you are not polluting the planet any more than necessary and I suspect that they, the testers, are also covertly assessing the drivers as well.
There are no sites for emission testing open at night. In fact, a few years ago the state decided that having their own emission testing sites was too expensive and too stressful having to deal with drivers in person, and in their wisdom they farmed out testing equipment to car dealers, which also earns the dealers some kind of income. Whilst that has not saved the state any money, at least they do not have to deal with actual in-person people.
I did everything I could on-line, including the option to receive both e-mail and text reminders when any of that stuff is due for something. Then, yesterday I drove to one of the car dealer testing sites, had the car tested. It passed and for a mere ten dollar/US counter fee, was able to have the registration process completed. Except that the car guys would not accept the fee from me, which was nice.
I then drove to the police station where they were amazed that I got it all done in one day, given the wonkiness of hours of business due to the holidays and all. Oh, the reason I had to have the insurance information on my phone is that the library was closed yesterday. An especially long weekend off for all of them, which, of course, they deserve because they are so nice about accepting my huge overdue fines. Yes, I am working on that, too.
A nice conversation, some show-and-tell with the coppers, some noodling around on their computers and I am fine. The tickets they gave me had to be completed withing fifteen days, so managing all that in less than twelve hours had me all chuffed. And, rightfully so.
Even though I am, well, not exactly broke, my funds are cramped because I went bat-shit crazy with gifts for everyone, I treated myself to dinner at my favorite Chinese restaurant. Whilst there, it snowed, so I walked next door to the grocery store and stocked up on comfort food so that I do not have to leave my house for the next week.
I did by enough healthy and reasonable food, but I also bought three kinds of tea, three kinds of cookies to have with them...no playing favorites here. And, now I am comfortably ensconced in my properly tarped and carpeted little home.
But, this is where the wacky stuff comes in.
In no particular order:
This village is like a small town, a really small town, like a really small town where even if you are not from here, you may have just gone ahead and been born and grown up here.
Two examples are that a month ago I had, actually one of my big, fat fingers missed the lock button on the car lock thing and instead opened the trunk. That stayed open for five days and drained the car battery enough to keep that little light on, but no enough to start the car. A long story short is that I decided to do what every old babe does...fix it myself. Turns out no amount of will power will fix a dead battery, car or otherwise. I called the hardware store to buy one of those things that you plug in, in the house, and get it all charged up for when you drain your car battery. They hardware guy offered to bring it to my house and then use his car to charge mine. I declined, mostly because it was weird to have a stranger offer that, and then mentioned that I was going to call R, the guy who owns the gas/service station a block from my house. I called R and whilst I was waiting for him to come and charge me up, the hardware guy called to tell me that he found exactly what I wanted. Great. Cool. But, I asked, had he known my telephone number. When he found that piece of equipment, after our phone call, he called R and asked for my phone number.
This sort of thing most likely goes on all the time in all kinds of places, but it has never happened to me.
We really have to trust our gut feelings, that intuition that does its best to help us find or meet or discover exactly what we need.
All I use Facebook for is to play bubble and mah jong games and as a touchstone with some of my friends and a very few family members. However, today one of my friends re posted something that I really liked, and I rarely pay attention to all of that self-esteem happy thoughts claptrap stuff.
Set some goals
Stay quiet about them
Smash the shit out of them
Clap for your damn self
Stay quiet about them
Smash the shit out of them
Clap for your damn self
Like totally best wishes to all my friends, some of my family and, gosh, just be good to yourselves first and clap your damn ass off for your damn self.