After completely freaking out, I fluffed my hair, put on a pretty top and hustled myself over to the Secretary of State's office. Breezing in, I was surprised to find no wait and a pleasant-faced woman behind the counter called me over.
She waved a dismissive hand after I explained my predicament, "Oh, don't worry, that sort of thing happens sometimes. We can fix it."
I sighed with relief.
"Allrighty, all I need you to do is look at the screen here and read the first line to me," she picked up her pen and started some paperwork.
I stood on tiptoe and peered at the screen. There were three columns of rectangular boxes all filled with letters. Well, almost all.
"Excuse me," I said, settling back on my heels. "Is the far left box supposed to be empty like that?"
Pleasant Face looked up from her work and frowned. "Nooooo. Why don't you try angling the box lower so you don't have to stand on your toes." (Yeah, it's that being five-feet tall thing.)
"Ah." I tipped the box down and looked again.
You know those 3-D pictures kids often have? The kind where the image changes depending on what angle you're at? Well, that's what the far-left box was doing.
"Excuse me," I said again. "Now it's sort of fading in and out."
This time Pleasant Face arched a brow at me. "Hmmm…never mind. Just read the middle and right-hand boxes.
"Okay." I pressed my face back against the screen. I widened my eyes. I narrowed them. Then I blinked rapidly several times in a row.
I finally finished and looked up, hopeful.
Pleasant Face looked back at me. And blinked. "Um…no."
"No. Do you wear glasses?"
My mind was racing. "Uh..glasses? Well, yeah. But I don't really need them. I only have them so I can clearly see the expressions on my son's face while he's playing soccer."
"Uh-huh. Maybe you should go get them."
That screen was just dirty! I thought as I scrounged through the glove box of my car to dig out my glasses.
I'll bet it just had a bunch of fingerprints all over it. That's the problem.Polishing my lenses, I walked back inside. Then I polished the little screen and peered through the viewer again.
Funky! All the letters were crystal clear! I read them off without a hitch and looked back at Pleasant Face.
"Perfect," she beamed.
I smiled triumphantly.
"Allrighty, now I'll just have to add that restriction onto your license…."
My smile slipped. Restriction? What the heck?! I'm not supposed to need a restriction. My mother, my father, they need a restriction. I'm only 48 years old. Aren't you supposed to be like…I dunno…70 or something when you need a restriction?!"
"Allrighty, now step over here so we can take your picture. That's such a pretty shirt!"
Who cares about my blasted shirt! I have a RESTRICTION!She snapped my dazed expression and I left clutching my new restricted temporary driver's license, still in shock.
I know I shouldn't be surprised when stuff like this keeps happening. I mean, I recall last year's "Bag" incident all too well. But for some reason I remain in complete denial that my body is aging. In my lovely fantasy world, my hot, new hubby and I graduated from college only a few short years ago. Just a couple of D.I.N.K.'s having fun…
I don't wanna wear my glasses all the time when I drive. I don't wanna! I don't wanna! I don't wanna!
And the trouble is, I'm gonna end up getting busted because I keep forgetting to put the stupid things on. Because I really can see without them. I can!
"We are always the same age inside." ~ Gertrude Stein
Image by: Crazytales562