Had to go to DMV to renew my driver’s license. I was prepped, brought my Nook, glasses, blank check and change for the soda machine. Got up at 7:30 with hopes of getting there before the rush. After breakfast, morning news and a short nap, it was 10:30. Got onto the road, went to mail the phone bill and the parking lot in the shopping center was being repaved for the fourth or fifth time in as many years. Or, that could be my imagination. Ran the slalom to the mail box nearly hitting a deranged wino trying to flag me down. Traffic to DMV was light and the anger I’d been prepping was waning. Nearly missed the turn to the building which is conveiniently hidden on a side road. It used to be right on West Main Street but it was way too small and that many hostile people in a cramped building was definetly a hazard. So they moved it, next to a convelaecent home so residents don’t have to go far for their licenses. Almost missed the parking lot but caught the turn and pulled into the maze. They’ve got arrows all over the tarmac, pointing in the opposite direction I wanted to go. It was like one of those gag gifts you find in Harriet Carter. You put a twenty in and the victim recipient has to solve a maze to get it out. (Hint: ball peen hammer).  I could see the building but an expanse, okay, a medium sized parking lot was between me and driving privileges. I negotiated the maze and found a parking place suspiciously close to the building. I went in. I was prepared for a mass of humanity milling about aimlessly. There were five people in line. Okay the woman in front of me carrying the folder is from a dealer and has a million forms the lady at the desk has to personally check. Everybody moved ahead smartly and it was about this time I noticed the TV  screen above the desk. It scrolled information about document that were needed to transact business. The was a quick flash of something about a form that was mailed to me that I needed to renew my license. Shit, tossed the paperwork they sent me as soon as I marked the date on the calendar. Got to the lady at the desk and blathered something about not having the form. She told me all I needed was my old license. She gave me a number and directed me to the licensing area. I sat and waited. I knew they were going to call the numbers sotto voce and I’d miss my turn. They called the numbers for all sections over the PA system. I waited and read. No Esparanto speaking immigrants trying for a license. It ran smoothly. Every time a number was called somebody went to the desk, move to the right and got their picture taken and sat back down. They were called back minutes later, given their license and sent on their way. My hopes for a hostile rant faded. My turn came. I gave the courtious clerk my old license, answered a few questions and had my license charged to my debit card. Got photographed, sat, put the Nook and glasses into the plastic bag. The lady called me and gave me my license and I was gone. What was conspiring against me? I wanted the obligatory, hostile, antiburacracy blog. It’s part of the bloggers code. Every blogger gets a rant about DMV. I wanted mine. I still had the supermarket.  When I got to the Stop and Shop the lot wasn’t crowded, a bad sign. I went in and pulled out the shopping list. It looked like found poetry and this store was different than the one I usually shop at. Hit a snag. yesssss! Material at hand. Nope, the produce clerk showed me where the granola was. The fresh pasta would have bit me if I wasn’t looking at it. The juice was in aisle one the “We’re trying to get rid of this stuff” aisle. The aisle where you find batteries next to jumbo bottles of vinegar scented shampoo and conditioner. Found everything else on the list. I must’ve looked like a lab rat on LSD stuck in a maze. I bounced all over the market and finally filled my basket. Passed by self checkout, I hate bagging, Found a checkout that was empty with a bagger and nearly killed myself getting my stuff on the conveyor before the bagger left on coffee break. Was back in the sunlight and on my way home. This was going to be a short blog. Wait, there’s hope. One of the bags stretched and nearly ripped. Hauled the groceries upstairs and all that happened was a jar of relish popped out and didn’t roll down the stairs. Put the groceries away and came to the realization it was a nonproductive day and the blog would be like pulling teeth.

I haven’t given up on Project Earworm. Youtube seems like a good bet. The only problem is I’ve got to get through Google to get there.

Earworm: Addicted to Love by Forence and The Machine. Only heard it five times.

Support a local food bank. Read a book to a kid. Be nice to somebody you reeaally hate.

See you on Friday.