Three AM

Well, I tried. I went to bed two hours ago and got up five minutes ago. Have you seen that commercial with the woman with ADD whose mind is “like the channel constantly changing?” Well, that is how my mind is tonight. I settle down to sleep and my eyes pop open. So, here I am, up and consuming a sandwich {food is always good} and waiting for the half-a-Klonopin buzz to set in.

Tomorrow, Fred’s friend Bill is supposed to be over some time in the afternoon. We are having hamburgers. Bill is a nice guy who talks and talks and talks and who doesn’t know when to leave! But I have no problem saying goodnight and going to bed at 11 pm and Fred is a night-owl anyway.

I did quite well today in getting things done. I wrote my cheque for $6.50 and a check for another bill, and put a book in a bag to send to a friend. Then I walked down to the post office, mailed everything and continued walking around the streets of this little town for 45 minutes. This afternoon, although I was feeling a bit physically achy, I went for a 30 minute walk. Late afternoon, after the second walk, I made the gingerbread which comes from a mix. it is particularly good because it is whole-wheat gingerbread. Over the weekend, I am probably going to try the gingerbread recipe from scratch from the Kinfg Arthur’s Bakery cook book.

Writing about paying the parking ticket reminded me of the time I let my Mississippi driver’s licence expire. I was working at Waldenbooks at the time {this was in addition to teaching full time} and my boss and I got to discussing how horrid license pictures are. We pulled ours out to compare the ugliness of the pictures and that was when I realized I had been driving for about a year and a half with an expired license!

The next day I drove {carefully} to the proper department to renew my license and handed it over at the desk all ready to pay the fine plus the cost and even take the exam again if I needed to. The policeman on the desk said, “Well, just let me check if you have any outstanding tickets…” I was sure I didn’t because the one I paid this morning is the first one I have ever had in my life so I smiled cheerfully and waited. And that was when he informed me that not only was I driving with an expired license, it was suspended also!

What had happend was that two years previously, I had been stopped in a roadblock and told my car inspection sticker had expired. At that time, what one did was get it renewed and then there was a number for the mechanic to call and tell whomever answered that the work had been done. Well, I had done it, the mechanic had called because I stood there while he did it, but, unfortunately, no one had checked the box or whatever it was that showed this had been done, and so, my license had been suspended.

Now, you may wonder at this point {as I did} why I hadn’t had something through the mail to inform me of this, and while I was thinking about this, why hadn’t I had the usual reminder card that the Department of Motor Vehicles sends out ? This was the fault of the Post Office. In Mississippi at that time {and maybe now too, but I don’t know since I have been gone from there for six years} the only mail that was NEVER forwarded was mail from the Dept. of Motor Vehicles. And had I moved, I can hear you asking? Of course I hadn’t, but in the last four years I lived in that house, the address changed THREE times. First, I lived on a rural route with a box number, then the road was given a name and my house  was given a number and finally, my end of the road was given a different name and, of course, my house, which hadn’t moved an inch, had yet another number. This was done because the road was so long. And, of course, somewhere in there, the Dept. of Motor Vehicles mail was sent back as “Doesn’t live here any more!”

You can imagine how panicked I was! I lived in the boonies with the nearest town 30 miles away and had to have a car to get to work. So, I called the Dept. of Motor vehicles in Jackson, the capital city, and talked to a very helpful person who told me to get in touch with my local judge who could sort all this out for me and when they got a notification from this person, I would get my license back. Our local judge was a woman named Mary Joyce Robinson. I called her machine and left a message explaining all of this and how necessary it was that I get my license back. Later that afternoon, she called me back after she had looked into it, and she was extraordinarily  helpful {which is why I remember her name so well!}  She told me not to worry, that all this had happened two cars ago! And I was obviously a model citizen {at this point I decided not to tell her that I was actually a model alien} and this was a mistake. She called the DoMV and  faxed them some paperwork. They then called me and told me how much all of this would cost. I sent them a check and a heartfelt plea for speed, and within a week, my new license arrived! You can bet I drove very very carefully until then!

Well, I think I feel the Klonopin working so, I am off to try sleeping again!

Until later…