'Tis the season, tra-la.
Last night I saw a palmetto on the kitchen floor.
I grabbed a heavy boot and smashed it about five times until it was twitching in a pile of its own viscera. I left it for dead.
This morning, I see the darn thing managed to crawl a foot and a half, sans entrails, to its final repose.
Hitler should have been breeding palmettos as the master race.
Yesterday was dull. Dull, dull, dull. Dull as dishwater. Dull as doorknobs. Dull as Pauly Shore, Adam Sandler and Jeff Foxworthy getting high.
It was Car Day. It was Government Compliance Day. It was a day of Hoopy-Jumpings.
DMV. Switch MS driver's license to LA. Should have shaved first. I look like a convict in my new photo.
Title transfer/registration place to switch Ben's car to my name so we can insure it for someone with good eyes (comparatively, poor thing) and a clean record.
Catch 22: You can't register a car without insurance.
You can't get insurance until you've switched the car's title.
Remarkably, the DMV went smoothly.
Ben: "That woman who helped us was efficient and friendly. She shouldn't be working here."
Remarkably again, the title/registration lady was awesome.
Lady: "We can do everything right now if you call your insurance company and have them fax me the necessary dox."
Remarkably again, my insurance company did so, with a mere twenty minutes on hold.
I feel remarkably lucky about how yesterday went. Years of experience have proven to me that dealing with mundane matters such as these is tantamount to shaking up a hornet's nest then sticking your hand in it.
Later that evening, I went to Bobby-Ann's house and helped him pack his truck for the long trek back to Philly. He's going because of a spaghetti-like mess of bureaucracy involving DMVs and such. Mere months after he moved here, found a house, settled in, made some friends, he is being extridited back home for a year for his own obstacle course of hoops and tires.
This italicizes and underscores my own ease of yesterday's tasks.
Though relatively painless, yesterday was, I still uphold a line by the induplicatable (new word!) Roald Dahl: "It is always better to incur a mild rebuke than to perform an onerous task."
Commit this to memory. They are words to live by, chickens. Words to live by.