I’ve been driving very, very carefully the past week. Not only because, you know, you stay alive that way, but because my windshield looks like this:
Oh, yes ma’am. My registration tag is out. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem. I’d pay the extra $1 to mail in my form (Because hello! Who actually wants to fight the parking and medal detectors at the court house, even in this podunk town?) and all would be well, but who said I was ever normal?
See, Granddad bought the car for me. Truth be told, he bought me Tina, my first car, too. (During the last hurricane evacuation, I came home to find that she had sat on the street and survived Ike so I named her Tina. And you people thought I wasn’t clever!) Sadly, after surviving three wrecks, (Whoops!) she went to Buick heaven when Bambi decided to commit suicide and smashed the hood in.
His brother happens to have many hobbies. Buying wrecked cars and fixing them up to sell just happens to be one of these so luckily, it isn’t a big deal. Granddad followed suit and has his dealer license now. You know, to go along with a construction company, 6 apartment complexes, a second company in Mississippi, two houses and multiple planes. Because why drive the 8 hours when you can get your pilot’s license, hop in your plane and fly there in two! (It came in handy when we evacuated, but that’s another story.)
I digress. You see, because he bought me the car, the title isn’t in his name or mine, but in Uncle Tom’s. After asking multiple times what we need to to do transfer the title, he finally gave me the paperwork because my tags were about to expire.
Apparently you have to pay taxes on what you pay for the car and it’s going to cost me $350 to get everything transferred. Did I mention that I just got my hours cut at the above mentioned construction company and that’s now the equivalent to three (!) paychecks.
All that safe driving meant nothing when I came home to find this in the driveway:
(Can you even go to jail for posting a picture of a police car? I mean, would they actually care? Knowing my luck, someone would find it and I’d have a criminal record all because I took a picture of a police car on the Internet. I’ll just stick with editing everything but “POLICE” off the car, just in case!)
I had plans to go take of everything this afternoon, but that didn’t happen, because I “over react about the littlest things and have a pissy attitude” and can just wait.
I’m sorry for planning my whole week around taking care of this today because we talked about it last night. I’ll be more than happy to put everything else on hold because you decide I should suffer. I’ve finally cracked from letting everything this past week build up and broke down crying, but don’t bother trying to let me explain that. Go ahead and tell me how rude and ungrateful I’m being.
I’ll just be in the corner sucking my thumb, having a nervous breakdown.
Needless to say, God has a funny sense of humor. Not only because of my aunt being here when I came home, but because there’s nothing I’d love more right now than to get in my car and just drive. Which, yeah. See? Sense of humor.