Some People Are Never Happy, or That Was The Week That Was, or Fuck Off, It's My Birthday

OK, so it's not officially my birthday yet, it's not till tomorrow. I'm just prematurely telling the world to fuck off.

I did celebrate by taking today off from work so I could have a nice lie-in, go to the DMV for a drivers license renewal, go have my tires rotated (now there's a dirty sounding phrase if there ever was one), go hither and yon, and generally enjoy thinking about those schlubs at work toiling away without me.

But let's go back in time a little. Here's a phrase I use often in #squeeze: This week has kicked my ass. I've probably used it here, too, and sometimes I feel like the little girl who cried wolf, because when I have a week like this one, that really seriously kicked my ass, then it loses a little of its oomph.

It's been something of a rebuilding week for me, and yes, if you've heard me say that before then you know it comes after a particularly depressive period. I guess I should have known they wouldn't stay away forever, and frankly, it's amazing to think that I really haven't had a Major Mood Slump (MMS in Betland) since my surgery. That's 10 months of a pretty even keel of functionality. That's also a damn record, so I shouldn't complain. But you know me, I'll always complain.

I'd felt it coming for about a week or so, and it all manifested itself last weekend. Saturday was bad, Sunday was worse. Sunday was, in fact, so bad that I indulged just a little too enthusiastically in the self-flagellation department (no, that wasn't dirty either), and ended up doing myself a mischief. I, um. Well, I.... I beat myself in the leg, OK? So badly that not only did the pain travel from my thigh down through my knee and into my shin, but I am also currently sporting a blue thigh. So there. I said it.

Sunday night was Catharsis Exhaustion (CE in Betland), and Monday morning was surprisingly non-depressive. I've also spent a major portion of the week reading a book that addresses some of my "issues" (that was especially for you, Mr M), and things are looking back up.

So on Tuesday I had to go from dealing with the emotional to the physical. And this was other than the painful blue thigh.

I was suffering from the headache only a non-caffeinated day can bring. So when I got home from work I gave in. I had about ¾ cup of coffee to settle my head. And what happened? Mr Pouchy said, "Ohhhh no. No, I don't think so." And I began to be very nauseous.

Then I did one of those truly podlike things. After dry-heaving over the bowl for 20 minutes, I came up with a brilliant idea. I decided I was going to practice the clarinet!

And so I began to blow into the horn, and after about five minutes my hands were numb, my fingers wouldn't move, and I felt myself falling off my nice red practicing chair. And so I gently put the horn down and tried to move to the Comfy Chair. And I almost didn't make it. And it was only a distance of about 2 feet.

I talked to a few folks online who said I was a victim of low blood sugar. This is not an uncommon occurrence among surgery patients. You don't eat enough (remember, the nausea had rendered me eatless) and your chemistry goes gonzo and voila, you're in the floor. So I was told to drink some orange juice, or eat a sweet pickle, or grab a piece of candy. Well, I don't keep any of that in my house! So I ended up forcing in a protein bar (well, it tasted sweet, anyway), and some salami and cheese. That was around 1:45am. I was finally starting to feel human again around 2:30. So I made it to bed and finally fell asleep around 4.

Wednesday night it was supposed to snow. Lots. I went to Band, then went by to visit Mr M a while, but left early to hopefully beat the snow and sleet. The snow and sleet that never came. But by that time, I was in no mood for bed, so I sat up and watched TV till about 2:30am.

Thursday at work I fell asleep, which was kind of embarrassing since someone was talking to me when it happened (it's OK, it wasn't a client). Thursday night was my pedicure, which I drove to - in a driving sleet and snowstorm, which wasn't predicted at all. In a stunning move, however, I capped off Thursday night by, for the first time in my life, touching a pregnant woman's stomach. I've never felt compelled to touch the unborn before, but my beautiful and strong-handed pedicurist had just grown so much since the last time I saw her, only three weeks ago.

Which brings us to today. When I took the day off work so I could have a lie-in and do all those things mentioned in the second paragraph of this ever-lengthening diatribe.

First order of business after the lie-in was the DMV. And you know you can't go to the DMV without having a good story, right? It's not possible.

So I arrived at the DMV - and let me just say I haven't been to the DMV since my last license renewal, some 7 years ago - and found it quite changed. It was very "futuristic science fiction movie." Everything gray and automated, some pleasant disembodied voice saying "Now serving D414 at window 7, D414 at window 7." It was, well, it was creepy is what it was.

Things were (don't faint with surprise here) moving quite slowly at the DMV today, and call me crazy, but I'm suspecting it may have been because of the twelve stations in the building, only four of them were manned by actual people. So I took a seat on the front row in front of one of the empty stations, and waited. 5 mintues became 10, which became 20, and 40, and I finally was called after a 45-minute wait. In the meantime I sat and looked at the empty station in front of me. Its nameplate said that in a perfect world, Megann Hurley would be working there, helping to keep us all from growing gray. I kept thinking about Megann. Megann spells her name dumb. Wonder if her mom spelled it that way when she was born, or if she started spelling it that way in Jr High to be cute. Then it hit me. Megann Hurley. Holy fuck. She could be related Tammy Hurley, the bitch whose trash found its way all over my yard! They could be sisters! Twins, even! Then I became convinced that's why Megann wasn't at work today. She was holed up somewhere with Tammy, and they were slathering Cover-Girl makeup all over themselves and building up another big bag of trash to disburse upon some poor unsuspecting person.

Then a little old lady got called to a window.

The little old lady got up and started tottering to her station. She had one of those 3-pronged canes, but she didn't really use it, she just lifted it up as she walked along. I could tell this wasn't going to be a zippy transaction right from the get-go.

She was there for the same reason as I - drivers license renewal. They took her card, and made her look into the eye test tube.

"Could you read the letters on the first row please?"

"What letters?"

"On the first row. You have to put your head down more, ma'am."

"I don't see any letters."

"Ma'am, your head makes the letters come on. You have to put your head down."

"I have to put my head down?"

"Yes, ma'am. No, you have to put it down more. Lean on the tube. No, more than that."

"But I don't see any letters!"

"Lean your head down a little more."

"Oh! I see the letters. O D S, no wait. Q O S H X Z."

"There are some more letters ma'am."

"On the screen?"

"Yes, ma'am, there are letters all the way across the screen, you have to read them all."

"I don't see them."

"Put your head down, ma'am."

"O Q S H X Z. R L T..."

"Ma'am, I need you to read the letters on the first row."

"The first row?"

"Yes, ma'am. All the letters on the first row."

"Q O S H X Z. R L T..."

"No, ma'am, you're switching to the second row, I need the first row."

And at this point I was contemplating screaming "You fucking morons, she doesn't know one row from another! You think she can go out and drive home without killing somebody?!"

But luckily, by the time I could get up, she finished her row. And I won't keep you on the edges of your seats here, they didn't like her eye test. And so they sent her to the other end of the room to take a written driving test. On the computer. And that involved some sort of a system whereas she was on a phone receiver while she was also pushing buttons to answer the questions. It looked confusing to me; I don't know how she did it.

And after a long interval she went back and said, "Well, I missed that darn sign. I failed." And after the DMV worker asked her how many times it was she'd been there now, she said, "Three."

Well, we're all safe for a little while longer. At least till she memorizes her signs and learns how to not only turn the eye testing machine on, but tell one row from another. And I don't see that happening any time soon.

And that leads me to this. Why was I even there? You know, here in VA you can renew your license by mail, phone, or internet. In fact, when you get your renewal card, those are the choices you get. "In Person" is not one of the choices. I just went in person because I wanted a new picture. I've done a fair amount of changing since my last one, and I've been waiting 7 years to get rid of the picture I had. That would be the "you look like you just sat on a tack" picture. That picture replaced my much loved "you look like you've just been arrested for heroin possession" picture of 10 or so years ago. Ah, I had such a soft spot for that picture.

About 2 years ago my dad, who was on the verge of being declared legally blind, renewed his drivers license by mail. He still holds a valid license. We're just all lucky he finally realized he couldn't see to drive; that came after he was in an accident, by the way. I have a friend whose father-in-law is in a nursing home, he has senile dementia. He got his drivers license renewed by mail.

The toddly lady at the DMV today could have saved herself the trouble, had she been able to know which row of the keyboard was which, and renewed via internet. Then gone out tonight and taken out the whole front row in the grocery store parking lot.

I know it's a busy world, and it's all about convenience. But there are some things you give up convenience for. You know, you can't call the DMV and get the most basic of information from them about your registration; you have to go in person. But you don't even have to show up to prove you're friggin' alive to get your license renewed.

So anyway, it finally became my turn, and I gave in my card, put my head down the right amount, read the entire second row - that was the row I was told to read - and got sent to get my picture made. It's a pretty shitty picture. I mean, it's the DMV, I wasn't expecting Scavullo or anything. But I seem to have taken on a slightly Philippino-ish look to me. Like a middle-aged Philippino lady. Who was just arrested for heroin possession.

Somehow, it's not as endearing.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* I'm adding a new link to my blogroll at right. It's "Query Letters I Love," a blog by someone in the movie biz who reads many query letters people submit wanting their scripts read. It's an absolute hoot. Be sure and read the comments too; they're as funny as the movie ideas.
* Sorry about the length of the blog. But I had a lot to say. Anyway, it's almost my birthday, so, well, you know. Fuck off.