So, on Friday, I went to renew my car's registration. This year, I actually paid my car tax (imagine!) but there was still a hold on my registration (probably due to the fact that I paid it 30 days before my registration was due to expire instead of in December, when it was due. Oops.) So, I went to the tax office to get a receipt, because I just knew I'd have trouble at the DMV if I went without one.
After waiting in line at the DMV for almost 45 minutes (I think I dozed off for a while), it was finally my turn, and sure enough, the woman said there was a hold on my account and could I produce a receipt. I handed it over proudly.
"Oh, honey," she said, "This is not even your car."
WHAT? Finally, we determined that somehow my payment had been credited to the taxes on my old Saturn, Christine, whom I sold last year.
But here's the really freaky part: The lady was able to transfer the payment to my new car, and even though I was then two dollars short, she gave me my registration anyway. At 4:59 on a Friday.
Coming, as I do, from Maryland, home of the soul-less MVA, where I once saw a man denied a driver's license because the MVA teller-person didn't believe that his middle name was simply "S," I was astounded to see bureaucratic employees making human decisions. Hooray for the Wilmington DMV!
In addition to my fine DMV experiences, we got to see Chris Cubeta and the Liars Club this weekend, which was the awesomest ever. They just kicked so much ass.
They did an acoustic set early in the day at Folk's Cafe, and then an incredible, no-holes-barred set at Bella Festa. I even got a song sung just for me!
Then, because they are the best ever, they met us down at Lula's for drinks and a raucous time was had by all. Danny, their manager, crashed over our house and we all argued about the top 10 villians of all time until I became uncomfortable and had to play Journey on the jukebox to lighten the mood.
I was absolutely dead on Sunday. I appear to have given up the hangover in favor of the sleep of the dead. I no longer have nausea or headaches, I just can't wake up. Some have ventured to say that this means I'm getting old, but I won't hear of it.