I decided to take care of that right away.
It was on the way to the license branch that I noticed the mustard and tomato stain on my shirt.
I tried to get it out with spit and some water from an old water bottle in the car, but it made things worse.
Monte and I were shocked at how quickly we were in a out of the polls.
Not so much at the license branch.
I had plenty of time to chat with the young gal in front of me.
She had just waited 1 hour and 20 minutes to vote and was now waiting to renew her license.
When it was finally my turn, the worker lady helping me had me look into the eye exam machine.
I was really struggling to make out the letters and the numbers.
They were so small!
She told me to step back from the machine.
She looked at me and said,
“Remember? I told you to also tell me
where the flashing light is!”
There was a flashing light?!
I tried again and actually saw the light this time.
“Oh! There it is!”
She reminded me that I had to tell her where “there” was.
When I was done she told me it was okay, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t multitask.
She asked me a series of 462 questions that she’s probably asked more times than I can count.
Did I have any warrants for my arrest?
Was I addicted to any substances?
Was I under the influence of a substance right then?
What was that stain on my shirt?
Just kidding on that last one.
She went over the information on my old license.
Was my height the same?
"Well, I haven’t gotten any taller…"
She asked about my weight and I said,
Then she took her open hand and circled it in the air over my head area and said something to the effect of,
“What are we going to do about your hair?”
She was holding a license of me as a brunette but I was standing in front of her more of a blonde.
I’ve been getting blonde highlights.
My hairdresser got tired of fighting my battle of the greys.
Because the greys were winning.
“I’m seeing blonde now,” she said, still doing the hand thing in the general area of my head.
I’m not sure why, but this made me mad.
Maybe it was because of the long line
or the big stain on my shirt
or the stupid flashing light thing outwitting me for a second.
I’m the only woman who has ever walked into the DMV with a different hair color than their old license??!!
The woman several people ahead of me was sporting
a shade of red on her head that was
NOT OF NATURE.
I didn’t hear a raucous over that.
What about all the blue, pink, purple and green hair I’ve been seeing walking the streets of late?
Do they have to change the color of their hair ON THEIR LICENSE information to reflect that?
I told her to just change it to brown from brunette.
I was not ready to commit TO THE STATE OF OHIO that I was officially now a blonde.
She told me to go sit in the chairs on the other side of the office to wait for someone to take my picture.
I was all huffy and,“Well, I never!” in my head when I saw them.
There were several old ladies waiting in the chairs with their purses in their laps.
I joined them.
In more ways than one.
A worker let one of the older ladies know her new license was ready.
She picked it up and looked at it for awhile and said loudly,
“I look like death!”
I was all fired up for my turn at the glamour shot.
The woman told me to smile or not.
Should I not smile?
She looked at her screen and said,
“Let’s try that again. Could you not slouch so much?”
Meemaw here will try to sit up straight so you can be sure to see the big ol’ stain on my shirt and capture the pure joy on my face this visit to the ol’ license branch has been.
She snapped another picture and said,
“Ok. That was WAY better!”
Like I was going to trust her
after giving the woman ahead of me
the death picture.
I walked out of there feeling old.
And like I hadn’t presented my A game.
And like I needed a prize for all the voting
and renewing I did that day.
So I went shopping to get McDaniel clothes for an upcoming conference she’s heading to and I found this shirt on the clearance rack.
Perfect for this old dinosaur.