I’m casting on a smaller project to have a more portable one to throw in my purse while hoping that doesn’t mean I’ll run out of knitting to play with. You never know.
Trade in an old decade or two and you get to report into the DMV in person. They want to know: has anything on my license changed since they issued the original in ’87?
Well, the hair isn’t brown anymore. And the height–I could stand an extra inch there, don’t you think? How about that birthdate. The ’50’s are so…so ’50’s. I don’t even remember them anyway. Bag it.
They now let you make appointments beforehand, supposedly so you don’t have to stand in long lines. The automated phone system, though, wanted me to go to the Redwood City office–which happens to be closed. It’s being remodeled. I think I’ll try again.
On hold… I think whoever programmed their system to play an eight-second song while you wait was very, very optimistic.
Bag that. Try online. Okay, got it, hit the confirm button–
–and get random computer squigglings.
Good old DMV. Still its same old self. After all these years, isn’t it good to see: it hasn’t changed a bit.
(Edited to add: the one back home in Maryland was pretty good, actually.)