MVA Madness: Take Six

My latest trip to Annapolis once again ends in abject failure.  Seriously, the only people benefiting from all this driving around is the oil company.  I had our bill of sale covered with more stamps and signatures than a Nazi passport, but they barely looked at it because they were busily inventing other reasons to turn me away.  We'll have to wait yet another week before we can make our next attempt.

Now we suddenly find our our credit score is abysmal, apparently for no other reason than we're young, don't have enough debt, and have been financially responsible enough to live without a credit card.  Now our number is so low we can't even get cell phones.  We pay all our f*&@#ing bills every month, on time or earlier.   I am sick and tired of being penalized for attempting to be a respectable citizen.  The message I seem to be getting from all these obstacles is that the ideal American will not move from state to state, will have at least five credit cards, run up enough debt to leave his grandchildren destitute, not integrate any of his affairs with those of his spouse, and not leave his parents until the age of thirty-five.  While perhaps typical, I didn't suppose it was desirable.

Our entire family has been diagnosed with acute cases of compliance fatigue in the past.  I think I'm having a flare up.

MVA Madness: Take Five

This was my bureaucratic failure du jour.  Drove back down to Annapolis today during rush hour to get to the DMV once again, hoping to finally register the car in our names.  Apparently that was too much to hope for, because we did not possess a doubly notarized bill of sale.  I swear, I wasn't in that building sixty seconds before I was tossed out again.

I feel like I'm trying to sneak into some exclusive club with enormous bouncers.  It may not technically be the city's fault, but the name is becoming synonymous with helplessness and frustration.

Hanging in There

I finally got a doctor's appointment to check my blood pressure after more than a month of trying.  I was late despite my best efforts because the gate I needed was very closed when I got there.  The verdict is that they want to do more blood work, keep me on the medication for another three months, and would very much like me to check my blood pressure daily and keep a log.  I refuse to shell out $$$ for my own personal machine, so they'll just have to be happy with a weekly check, if I can find some pharmacy somewhere.  It's like a self-perpetuating nightmare.

I also had to explain the sordid details of my recent medical history to two separate individuals, and give brutally honest answers to questions like, "How old is your baby now?", and "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Nothing else I did today seemed to go exactly according to plan, either.  All of a sudden, despite being unemployed and having no children, I have a thousand places to be.  But while I was sitting in traffic, watching my eggs and yogurt spoil, I heard this song on the radio.  It didn't actually help much, but it did put things in some perspective.

And I am very thankful at least that we haven't been blown away by tornados or flooded out of the neighborhood.  I'm starting to develop a phobia of natural disasters.