I was out running errands today. And man, am I tired.
The excitement was when I drove across the river- there's a Pendleton Woolen Mills outlet store in Washougal, about 15 miles out from the bridge on I-205. I drove out there to see if they had anything I could afford for new clothes (they did- I brought home a 6-yard piece of a dark charcoal suitweight wool- $3/yd!). And when I went to check out, I handed the lady my Oregon driver's license with my debit card (Washington state has sales tax, Oregon doesn't. If an Oregonian buys something in Wash., they can get the sales tax off by showing their license. I like this. ). And come to find out it's expired. Not the debit card- *the license*. Since November!
I have no recollection at all of getting a renewal notice, and there's no renewal sticker on the license, and flipping through my check register, no check written for it either! Eek!
So I drove ~very carefully~ back across the river to DMV, and got my license renewed. (And was I feeling paranoid all the way there? Oh yes! Last thing I need is a citation for driving with an expired license!) They insisted on making a new one- picture and all. Blergh. I was running errands, had no makeup on, my hair needed combing and I'm wearing my Gryffindor t-shirt. So now I have a driver's license picture that makes me look like the World's Oldest 14-year-old!
And of course simply braving DMV... wait wasn't too long, except there were three of them. And the last two I had to sit between someone who was clearly a heavy smoker, and a fellow who believes that after-shave is akin to godliness, and he wanted to be very Godly! So why is it that when I pull out the albuterol inhaler, they look at me like I'm the problem?
Tomorrow's adventure- Mill End!