Excuses

I would like to say I've been busy, internets... but I haven't been. Or that I've been on an exclusive vacation... but I wasn't. I should be able to tell you about how I've been held captive for the past week or how I've been in the hospital with a rare disease, yet that's just not true. The sound of silence has invaded me and I just haven't had it in me to talk to anyone. I did write a post about death... but I opted not to publish that one. It was long and depressing and I know I sure wouldn't have wanted to read something like that on another blog, so I didn't post it... yet. I could go on about how it's that time of the month again, but seriously... do you REALLY want to hear about all that, yet again? Yeah, me neither.

So what's a blogger to do when they just don't have anything to say? I suppose I could have put up some pictures, but that would have taken effort. I forgot where I left effort, so if you find it could you give me a call? I kind of miss it.

I do have a small story to tell you today. I wasn't here just to make excuses as to why I've been gone for a week.

The registration on my vehicle expired the end of December. December 31st, 2008, to be exact. Since 12:01am January 1st, 2009 I have been driving my car illegally. Counting today, that's just shy than 3 months expired. Right? Our local Tom Thumb grocery store offers the service of renewing vehicle registration. Which is great, because our local Tax office is usually packed and I always feel like I'm in an unemployment office when I go in there. I'm not sure why. My vehicle registration last year was expired by 4 months when I finally went in last year. I wasn't totally sure then if Tom Thumb would still hook me up because it was so late, but they did. (The only benefit to me going to the tax office when it's late like that, is for me to swear I've not driven the vehicle for the time period that it was expired and I would get a discount on what I would pay.)

So I track down effort, and we go to Tom Thumb. When it's finally my turn, the clerk, who is a man maybe in his late 30's, proceeds to tell me, "Since your registration has been expired for over a year, you will have to take this to the tax office for proper processing". Now... if the man would have just told me, sorry, this has been expired too long, we can't help you, I would have thanked him kindly and gone across the street to the Tax office like a good girl and been fine with it. But noooooooo. He had to go throw in the part about it being expired for over a year. So I tell him, nicely, "Actually, it's only been expired for less than 3 months". Then the male, middle aged clerk starts to talk to me like I'm an idiot and is somehow trying to prove his case that my registration has been expired for over a year and every time I try to explain to him how he's wrong, he interrupts me and he will not let me talk.

I feel it's an important fact, before I go on, that you know how much I hate confrontation. I avoid it like the plague. I will no more argue with someone (unless it has to do with my job) than I would kill someone. It just doesn't happen here, folks. I think the biggest reason I don't is because when I get really, really angry, I cry. My body just doesn't handle angry.

So's anyway... the stoopid old fart starts pointing out dates on my registration emphasizing his stupidity and I loudly say, so that he and everyone around could clearly hear me, "If you would just be quiet for a minute and let ME show YOU how you are wrong, that would be great". Yes, I DID do the whole Office Space you're a freaking idiot thing there. And he stopped talking. And I very slowly counted the months on my upraised fingers in front of his face, from December 31st, 2008 to March 26th, 2009. When I was done, he quickly said something about legally they can only do a three month period which would be February, March and April. I told him, "That's fine, but someone here did it last year and that's the only reason I came back here this time, otherwise I would have just gone to the Tax office in the first place." He handed me back my paperwork and I left... loudly.

I had planned on picking up a few things while I was there. I chose not to. And I vowed never to set foot in that, or any other, Tom Thumb ever again. I drove across the street to the Tax office and got my registration from a very nice lady who didn't talk to me like I was stupid and it probably took less than 5 minutes.

The moral of my story? (yes, I have a moral!) I didn't cry when I confronted that guy. I didn't cry when I was leaving and I was SO mad! It's been a day and the sound of that guy talking down to me STILL makes me mad... but I haven't cried about it. So my moral would be: When you get old, middle aged men can no longer make you cry.

Yes... it IS hard to believe you were able to live your life without my sound advice and inspirations.