I’m a DC resident!

WHAT I INTENDED TO POST YESTERDAY

K and I watched Planes, Trains and Automobiles at the NoMa summer film fest  last night Wednesday night.  It is a lovely summer date option– at least until the high temperatures hit triple digits and I effectively refuse to leave the house. They put up a huge screen on the lawn, toss up some speakers, invite some food trucks and you’ve got yourself an excellent Wednesday.  Public drinking seemed unofficially encouraged.  And public drinking is so much better than regular drinking.

I mixed some vodka in a bottle of lemonade and packed us a picnic, or what I view to be proper dinner when eating outside– a tub of cheese spread, a loaf of bread and salami.  All my favorite food groups.  K insisted I bring vegetables, so I bought a bag of baby carrots on my way and called it a day.  We have very different views of what sounds delicious.  K’s like “Mmm, spinich” and I’m like “Mmm, a pound of bacon”.

WHY I DIDN’T

I spent about 3 hours yesterday trying to get a DC drivers license.  The logic as to why I needed a DC drivers license was two-fold: (1) The DC pools are free for residents and it gets mother fucking hot up in this bitch and (2) I had to break into my house a couple months ago and was petrified I was going to get arrested because I didn’t have actual proof I lived there.  I just imagined being handcuffed in the back seat of the cop car yelling “I’m not an intruder.  I live here, I swear!  The tile in the bathroom is blue!  Go check, I promise!”.

DMV and post office employees are my least favorite people of all time.  When I lived in Chicago, I literally had to give myself self-esteem boosting pep talks before walking into the Fullerton Avenue post office because the women were that mean.  They once threw an old lady out for answering her cell phone in line.  Like literally “get out right now”.

Part of me is sympathetic.  I’m not sure any young child says– I really want to work at the DMV when I grow up*, but I feel like I am bothering them with my needs.  Everything I say comes out in question form:  I’d like a DC drivers license?  Here is my passport?  I’ll pay with credit card?  Please don’t yell at me again?

Turns out I didn’t have the proper documentation so my afternoon went like this:  go to DMV, wait in line, am told I don’t have the proper Social Security documents, go to Social Security office, wait in line, go back to DMV, wait in line, pass the eye exam (win!), give them my money, have a brief cry as they punch holes in my Minnesota license, get my picture taken, gawk at picture in which my face is incredibly shiny and my hair takes up most of the frame, get on the Circulator going the wrong way, get kicked off the Circulator at the end of the line, consider having a brief meltdown, get on another Circulator, get back to office.

After all that hoopla– I am now officially a DC resident and heading to the pool the second I get off work.  And will be at the pool $44 dollars worth and 3 hours of my time in the coming weeks.  I hope everyone has a lovely 4th of July weekend.  Let my favorite July game– fire works or gunshots? commence.  See you right back here on Tuesday morning.

*Although there was a very brief period in my young life in which I wanted to be a trash man because they got to ride on the back of a moving vehicle.  And clearly was something I thought I should aspire to, because not wearing your seat belt was so badass.

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