I finally hauled my ass over to the dmv today, just me and my knitting and a bunch of important papers and my checkbook. My excellent sister came by to watch the monkeys. I was sad to be in and out in less than an hour.
The guy who helped me looked at my shirt, puzzled. "Writing is the best revenge. . . what’s fussy?" "Oh," says I, "it’s my friend’s website." (cause who wants to explain the whole phenomenon, and I did meet her, after all, lucky me)
"Why is it the best revenge?"
"Uh, you know the saying about living well?"
"Okay, so how much is the tax and transfer and all that?"
"Three fifty seven."
I decide not to do any Dirty Harry impressions or even make a reference. Too much work. I hand him a check and say, "It would be really funny if you made people show their license when they wrote a check!"
*thinks a moment* "Why would that be funny?"
"Uh, ’cause it’s the dmv, and you guys give out the licenses, you know?"
"Am I all done then?"