It's ON

I woke up this morning with one thought in my mind: my tags are supposed to arrive today. I had a tight schedule, so I was planning on receiving my tags, going to parking services, trying to get the ticket voided, returning home and going to my other obligations.

First of all, the post office person didn't even KNOCK on the door. I'm sitting upstairs, folding laundry when I hear the mail slot open and close. I go flying down my (dangerous) metal stairs to see a pepto-pink Sorry We Missed You slip. "You can pick up the package after 1:00" the slip said.

So I angrily wait until 1:00, head to the Post Office. Whew. Great--license plate and registration are in my posession.

I head straight to Parking Services, park my car, go inside, show my ticket and my registration. The clerk voids the ticket and I skip happily out of the office, feeling like a responsible and productive adult for the first time all day.

I drive merrily home and just when I'm about to park, I see it: another ticket crammed under my windshield wiper. I jump out in insta-rage. Ticket says: Expired tag. 50 dollars. I squeal tires in my angry U-turn back to Parking Services.

They void it, again, and I storm out of the office, my day throughly dampened.

Officer Pinkney--I blame you for everything.