I’d rather get a root canal. I’d rather have the flu.
I hate getting my driver’s license renewed. I hate it. I hate it.
Nebraska is horrible – Arizona was worse. The examiner in AZ was a crank who couldn’t believe that I didn’t see his dots line up in the stereoscope. He all but yelled I was a liar. I have a common and non-lethal visual defect. If I close my left eye and then close the right, or look in a stereoscope, my eyes focus in a slightly different spot. Optometrists often don’t consider it necessary to add a correction for minor problems like mine until the patient needs glasses for reading or distance. In Arizona, I had to go outside and make a long-distance phone call from a phone booth to my previous state. Then I had to bang on a pipe so the examiner could hear the ruckus from inside and take the connection. For real — in Tempe.
I’ve never been to the Nebraska DMV on one trip. Usually forget to take cash. Like they couldn’t revoke the license if I wrote a bad check? Today I had to go home and root around for some mail with my name on it to “prove” I was me.
Really?
The document THEY sent with MY NAME on it, and my PHOTO ID (the old license) were not enough proof that I wasn’t some illegal alien terrorist trying to bluff my way into america?
I waited in the wrong line to pay as usual. Then had to go to the right line –like there are such crowds — all ten of us.
The fee is never some round dollar figure, it’s some oddball dollars and cents. I put out my hand to take the change and the cashier plopped the bills and coins on the counter like I had cooties. Guess people who work for the treasurer’s office don’t need to know how to count money back. Thanks for the splendid customer service dear.
The nadir of the process was the photo — stringy hair stuck to my face and all. My license photo looks like hell and that’s just how I feel. I think I’ll use my computer’s camera to make a pasty when the real deal arrives.


