A Series of Unfortunate Events

The newspaper I write a column for is on hiatus, leaving a void in my schedule. With no deadlines to meet, I have ample time to spend on my blog. Lucky you.

“A Series of Unfortunate Events” is a set of books for young people by Lemony Snicket (that has to be a pen name, right?) I can identify. And not without reason.

It all began with renewing my driver’s license. It was going to expire on my birthday, AND I was going to travel by air in the near future, so knew I had to have valid ID. I figured I’d go in a week early, that should be plenty of time. I forgot to factor in 1) new rules since COVID, 2) that I now live in a city, and 3) government bureaucracy.

I arrived at the DMV only to be told I needed an appointment. Okay. But I couldn’t get one for six weeks. That was cutting it very close, but I had almost enough time to get it if I made the appointment at a different office. So, I got online. Found a web site and registered, only to find out later that they had no record of my appointment. I am on someone's schedule somewhere... So now I wait. Thank goodness I whined to my daughter, who knew someone who knew someone, and they got me in within a couple of days. Whining pays off now and then. I arrived for my appointment and was the only one in the entire building! Go figure. Now I prayed the new license would arrive before I had to fly.

Then, a few days later, I was toodling down the street and saw this red light in the rear-view mirror. I had done nothing. But I was compliant and pulled over. The officer comes to the window and wants my registration. Now, I loved my husband to death, but he never threw away a piece of paper. I frantically search through gas receipts, oil changes, tire warranties, all stuffed in the visor when the officer nicely says, “I think it’s that one, ma’am.” So I hand it over. He comes back after checking it out. “Ma’am, did you know your plates expired a year ago?” WHAT? Doesn’t the DMV send you a reminder to renew them? They had always done it before. Then he wants to know if I have insurance. “Yes, I do.” But all the insurance cards are expired too.

I must have had that deer-in-the-headlights look on my face when he asked what I was going to do. “Officer, sir, I will be at the DMV at daybreak tomorrow. He let me go with a warning. When I got home, I was a little rattled and told my neighbor. Well, it seems you can’t register your car without an appointment either! Bless his heart, he pulled out his phone and made an appointment for me.

My guilty conscience--no valid license, no plates, no insurance card --is screaming that I'm going to get stopped again, so now I'm really driving like a little old lady. Which is probably an accident waiting to happen. What else could possibly go wrong?

But there is always one more thing. I don't know why, but I brought the car title with me when I went to get the new plates. God prompting. When I got there, I learned that if you're listed first on the car's title, and you pass away, the car gets removed from their list. The government, in its infinite wisdom, has decided dead people don't drive. No more prompts to get new tags. REALLY? Given my listing in third position—Peterson Welding, Gerald Peterson, and myself—a reminder is unnecessary. The DMV man was very patient and helpful and changed the title to my name. Must have been that panicked look in my eyes. That was a month ago, and I am still waiting for tags.

Next stop was the insurance office. “Oh, we probably sent you an e-mail with your insurance renewal.” Okay. If I don’t recognize something in my spam file, it goes away. I would really like a little card I can put in my wallet, thank you very much. Not sure if that issue is fixed, but at least I know to check.

I have since cleaned out the visor, put everything where I can find it (except the registration which has yet to arrive), just in case I might need it again. Life. It happens. I just need it to happen in smaller increments over a longer period of time.