I spell it D-M-V

So, I think I’ve at least mentioned that I’ve got a car now, yes? ‘94 Buick LeSabre, forest green? If I haven’t, that’s out of the way now.

Well, I got the car registered yesterday. Which means going down to the DMV on my lunch break which means…oh crap he’s going to complain about the DMV. Could airplane food be next? Dry cleaning? Florida? Trust me, kids, I’ve got a lot of Seinfeld routines that I could throw out at you, but I won’t. It was actually a quite decent trip to the DMV. It was a wait of over an hour, but then I was clever enough to not wait at the DMV for an hour, the Girl and I went to Subway, got us some $5 footlongs. They had run out of bread right as we got to order, but y’know what? Waiting at the DMV or waiting at the Subway, doesn’t make a heap o’ difference.

So, yeah, car’s registered now. All mine. Now you know.