It's hard to be a grownup. Never is this more apparent than after one moves 2,000 miles and then must set up official government documentation to prove it. I won't go into detail about the day, but the easiest part of it was renewing my military ID. For those not initiated into military life, the DOD is not known for operational efficiency. It surprised today and getting a new ID was quick and painless...and only good until November. Sigh.
After that, it was on to the DMV. And I thought Illinois was bad. It was an hour and a half wait to get a piece of paper--a temporary driver's license. This was embarassing to pull out at Papa Murphy's when the 18-year-old asked for my ID with my credit card purchase. More on that in a moment. The worst part of getting the license was that the waiting had to continue at another building in a totally different part of town to procure new license plates. And then only for the Jetta, since Jeepy is still technically owned by CarMax and we didn't have what we needed to get plates (or "tags" as they are called out here) for that. We didn't even try for the Glamper.
The day of waiting through calls of, "Now serving E346" when our number was F108 called for pizza and beer. At Papa Murphy's, we ordered a couple of pies to ensure a stock of leftovers for tomorrow. DeLite Thin Crust Pepperoni for me and The Cowboy for Dr. J. The young counter gal asked Dr. J what kind of Cowboy he wanted and I giggled and said, "Rhinstone."
She had no idea what I was talking about. I knew I was a grownup, but when did I get OLD??
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