It's so hot that Sam hangs out in the pool all day.
Moving to Arizona in the middle of August is not necessarily something that has been on my bucket list (please see earlier note about the Danish-Irish skin and my on-going battles armed with SPF 1,000). The heat is dry, over-powering, and feels like someone is whacking you across the face with an enormous bag of flour. Not that I've been hit in the face with a bag of flour (yet), but I assume a flour bomb would be dry and dusty. If PETA ever attacks me with a flour bomb ala Kim Kardashian and it's not how I thought, I'll be sure to make a correction to this blog. The heat is a vicious enemy, but the real enemy plaguing me is the Department of Motor Vehicles.
Ahhhhh DMV, the current bane of my existence. Let me back up. I'm what my husband refers to as a "rule follower." I never exceed the amount of items permitted in express check out lane, I feel panicky if I believe that my carryon luggage is a tad too big for the overhead compartment and no flight attendant stops me and asks me to gate check it, and overdue library books give me sweat inducing anxiety. Yes, I am a huge nerd. So, as my husband and I loaded up the Pumpkin (that's my orange Element) to make the epic journey from mountains to the desert, I knew that my tags would be expiring promptly upon arrival. After getting moved in (on a 118 degree day), I set out to find the DMV so that I could avoid the night sweats that would inevitably ensue upon October first when MY TAGS OFFICIALLY EXPIRED!
A few days prior, I printed out the necessary paper work, tracked down license and registration, grabbed a gas bill showing my new residence, and even prepared a blood sample (wait no, that's how you get a library card). Assuming there'd be a wait, I even packed a book and a snack. I arrived and waited with the masses to get a number. A million days (I mean 30 minutes) later, I learned that despite my planning, an emission test was necessary prior to obtaining my legal tags. I set out and conquered the quest, only getting lost a handful of times. Upon the completing the mission with a certificate boasting that my sweet ride passed, I headed back to the DMV. I waited a million days more to discover that there would be no time to help anyone else as the DMV would be closing in 2 hours and the wait time was currently 2.5 hours. GASP! But my tags expire in 2 days!
I choked back the bile associated with known rule breaking and VOWED to be in on the following Monday at the start of business (again, my nerdy rule following knows no bounds).
Monday arrived, and I packed my DMV kit (papers, book, and math problems to solve for fun - wait, no) and headed in. This time, I scored a number and the chance to sit in the waiting chairs. Never mind that my tags were expired, I was getting it done! A few hours into the epic wait, while trying to read my book and avoid the loud talker in the leather vest to my left, a heartbreaking announcement was made -- the system was down and there was no way of knowing when it would be back up. Numbers were wiped from the board, and I was forced to pack up, and illegally drive my car home.
Because I assumed it would be dealt with, I had a busy week during which I'd not set aside the requisite 8 hours necessary for another DMV adventure. So, I spent the week having heart palpitations any time I saw a police car while driving. There's nothing like feeling like you've robbed a bank while driving to Starbucks (well within the speed limit).
Finally, yesterday I awoke with a great sense of purpose. I was going to master the DMV beast. With everything together and with a spring in my step caused by knowing that soon I would return to being a rule following citizen, I returned once more....to find an empty parking lot. Apparently Colombus Day means no DMV, which means that I am still a vehicular fugitive.
So, as the new girl in Scottsdale, I will work on embracing this new found street cred and will work to be the most rule following sunburned law breaker I can be.
