I’ve spent the better part of this week (also the worse part of this week) tying up loose ends before I take the next 14 days to discover what life is like without most of my girl parts. (Side note: I accidentally typed “my girl party” and that struck me as very funny, mainly because I didn’t sleep very well last night.)
Anyway, this morning I delivered some papers to school and then I returned every single library book that will be due in the next two weeks (and that equals ALL OF THEM) and then I decided to treat myself to a soy caramel latte which is my second favorite drink at Starbucks (I didn’t feel that I deserved my first favorite drink.) before heading over to the license bureau to renew my driver’s license. The Starbucks lot was completely full, so I did the thing where I park in the bank parking lot next door and walk over. (I still wear a Fitbit, but I definitely do NOT want to talk about it.)
Not only was the Starbucks LOT completely full, but the Starbucks STORE (store? location? box?) was completely full. I ended up in line behind a woman who was typing an e-mail on her iPad AND talking on her phone (with one of those no-hands doohickies) all at the same time (while standing up!). There were eight people in line ahead of us, and six of them were doing something or other with a screen. (One was doing something with a baby. One was wearing a yoga costume.) When the woman behind the cash register was ready for iPad/Phone lady to order, this is what happened.
Cash Register Lady: I can take who’s next.
iPad/Phone Lady: Blah, blah, blah, showings at noon and two.
Cash Register Lady: Next in line please!
iPad/Phone Lady: I don’t even want to talk about that. We’ll discuss that on Tuesday.
Cash Register Lady: Next!
I decided to walk around the iPad/Phone Lady to order my drink, because sometimes my actions speak louder than my words. Then this is what happened.
iPad/Phone Lady: Wait. I’m next!
(I stepped back.)
Cash Register Lady: What can I get for you today?
iPad/Phone Lady: Hold on just a second.
She then dismissed the person on the telephone, closed down her iPad, and stared at the menu for 73 minutes before ordering her beverage. (73 minutes was probably more like 7.3 seconds, but by this point I WAS COMPLETELY DONE WITH HER SHENANIGANS.) ((Her drink was VERY specialized, so deep down I knew that she was completely prepared to order (two AND A HALF Splendas?! do you have any idea that I’m stink-eyeing you in my head right now?) and was just wasting those 7.3 seconds to get back at me for taking one step forward and two steps back.))
Her name was Andrea. She had a lot of cat hair on her pants. (So do I.) Judging by her conversation and her e-mail (that I read over her shoulder because I didn’t have much else going on), she has a very busy day ahead of her. And I found myself thinking things like, “Why in the hell can’t people just drop their screens for ten minutes so that the line can keep moving?” And then I remembered that I’m parked in the bank parking lot, so who am I to try to push my rules on other people? I have no business to handle at the bank! I grabbed my drink, scored about 200 steps on the walk back to my car, and headed toward the license place.
I know it’s a thing to complain about the license office because most license offices provide a lot of things about which to complain. When I entered the building, the skies opened up and I was able to go right up to the “put your forehead against the paper” machine for my vision test. Suddenly, it was time to take my photo and I’m not sure why I had forgotten that part, but I had, so I started stressing out about the amount of lip gloss that had transferred from my face to my soy caramel latte cup but I didn’t want to take the time to actually find the lip gloss, so I sat down and waited for the flash as instructed, and here is the photo that I’ll be walking around with until 2020.
I’ve seen worse, although I have no idea why the lack of lip gloss caused my right eye to nearly fall out of my skull. (Also, I’m not really sure there’s a bear seal on a Missouri license, but in my mind, there’s a bear seal on a Missouri license.) ((Also, that high school weight thing? If people try to find me based on the weight listed on my driver’s license, I will stay hidden forever.))
Finally, I’ve considered live-blogging my surgery next week, but I think we all have more important things to do than tune in for:
11:30 First incision made. Things are about to get spooky all up in my organs.
12:45 This is not my house.
15:27 I have now told the nurse that I’m a vegetarian 492 times. I have also told her to not bring me a turkey sandwich no matter how much I beg for it. I’m like a gremlin, but nothing like a gremlin.