Take my picture - please!

Last night, I sat straight up in bed, sweating profusely, terrified of a single thought that sent me scurrying into my closet: What if I need another form of i.d.?

Yes - I'm afraid that I was - DMV-bound.

I had gathered up all my information - anything I thought that may be of use to the clerk who would look at me disapprovingly for having lost my license in the first place and then outright condemn me to hell for forgetting to bring my 8th grade transcripts or proof of human being status or something equally as impossible to attain. This time, though, I was going to be prepared. I marched into the DMV with a confidant smile upon my face - my purse was loaded with an arsenol of information. On my person was the following:

1. a birth certificate

2. a social sec. card (married)

3. a social sec. card (unmarried)

4. a marriage license

5. a cable bill (for proof of address)

6. a voter's registration card (dusty from years of non-use)

7. a valid passport

8. an insurance card

9. a credit card

10. a debit card

I was ready for 'em.

I strolled through the double doors and straight up to the information desk. The clerk was nice - it threw me - but no matter - I have heard that they will adapt their personality to suit you and then bite your head off for sport as soon as your back is turned. I knew their game. She handed me a form to fill out.

Nope - don't think so - I pulled out the exact same form , filled out in its entirety from the library of my bag. Looking mildly impressed she sent me to Window Three.

No one was there - so I stood. The guy sitting to my left was arguing with two clerks in a language I had never heard before. I wondered if it was Klingon - but the "Git-R-Done" hat (turned backwards for my reading enjoyment) made me doubt my assumptions.

Finally, my clerk showed up. He looked young and I realized that he must have been recruited straight out of the back of his high school's library for his current occupation. I handed him all my information - he handed it all back - except the cable bill. THAT was the one crucial piece of info that was required in order for the state of WV to see that I belonged here - that I was worthy of a duplicate license - I only had to pay too much for crappy cable! Finally, after checking all five of the dollars I handed him with a forgery pen, he issued me a receipt and I went to the camera station to have my picture taken. I was prepared for this, too. I was hovering over a seat, ready to sit, nest, and read some more of my too cute book "Undomestic Goddess" when my name was called.

Well, crapmuffins.

I hadn't even put my face on yet.

The lady smiled at me, and the eyebrowless man (what happened there, I wonder?) pointed me to the mirror they had mounted to the wall to the left of the desk. I slapped on some lipstick, poofed my hair and smiled for all the world to see (if they happened to pull me over).  

I had achieved the impossible - I was in and out of the Department of Motor Vehicles in less than fifteen minutes.

I deserve a medal.

Or at least a do-over - that picture! Yeeesh! I look like a cross between a deer-in-headlights and the Yeti that ate it!