Last night, while participating in the gluttonous consumerism that is American Christmas, my best friend pointed out that I was driving with an expired license. And had been since Nov. 11. That’s neat. So, today, it was off to the D.M.V for me. And lucky me, I was there ALL MORNING LONG.
First of all, let’s be clear: I don’t like the D.M.V. Actually, I don’t like any place that I have to wait for more than 12 minutes to get what I want (GAP employees who take too long finding the jeans, take a hint) And at the D.M.V., I am surrounded by people I don’t know (a weird phobia I have) the possibility of small children being present is high (does anyone employ a babysitter anymore?) and I most definitely had to wait more than 12 minutes today. Try 47 minutes. And that’s not even counting the time it took for me to get TO the D.M.V. So let’s count! After all, I love math:
The time it took for me to get from my house to 88th and Wadsworth= 31 minutes
The normal time it takes to get from my house to 88th and Wadsworth= 6.5 minutes
The time I spent in the D.M.V. before I saw the “No Credit Cards Accepted” sign= 3.2 minutes
The time I spent cursing myself for never carrying anything but a credit card= infinite. In fact, I’m doing it right now. I will never learn.
The time I spent driving in circles at the bank trying to find the ATM so I didn’t have to talk to a person= 2 minutes
The time I sat at said ATM staring at the screen that said “ATM BEING SERVICED” and willing it to be fixed= longer than I’d like to admit.
The time it took to explain to a real person that I normally bank in Ft. Collins but I need $20 RIGHT NOW = 23 minutes. (Part of this time was spent giving the bank clerk the stink-eye, at which I am proficient having learned it from my mother.)
ACTUAL D.M.V. time= 47 minutes.
Amount of time spent listening to racuous, running twins at D.M.V.= 47 minutes.
Number of times I listened to the a capella version of “O Holy Night” by N*SYNC to get myself back into the Christmas spirit, and also to prevent myself from calling everyone on the road a motherfucker= like I’m really going to admit THAT…
So if you add all those times up, you can come to three basic conclusions:
1. People should not have children two at a time.
2. ATMs are called 24 Hour FOR A REASON – DO NOT DECIEVE ME AGAIN 1ST NATIONAL BANK!
3. My life is so much better when I have Dana to drive me around.