Gorgeous George just tipped me off that Movie Day may be interrupted by CID switching over to some new folkloric meter system and cutting the power to Paolo and Miss D’s house, which was our chosen viewing venue, for a to-be-determined portion of the day. Cheezits! That’s okay: we’re flexible.
Thus, once that outage happens, we will scoot from the honeymoon house-sitting and do our little bit of blending at the DMV rather than the Raley’s, since to complete my vehicle registration I need to prove to them I smogged my stupid car in accordance with their stupid laws and surrender my genuinely stupid Oregon plates. Only six characters on the plate? Puh-leeze. You guys are ridiculous. I can’t even look at you right now, Oregon. Ridiculous. Seven is the key number, man. Seven windows, seven doors, seven sevens! (Bonus prize in the mail to whoever nails that quote first. Not even kidding.)
Woohoo, back in the 209 for good (and a little evil, not gonna lie): why don’t y’all make your government bureacracy-bullshit selves useful for once, DMV, and hook me up with them there ol’ Golden Stet plets! So this is not a setback at all. Still taking the day to the moon. Ow!
Edit: The Gentleman beat everyone to the punch with a text message yesterday — “something about mary,” the man said. And he is right, sadly. Oh, I’ll send you something in the mail, all right…