|Responsibility trophy from "This Is Why I'll Never Be An Adult"|
However, all of this grown-up pulled-together-ness dissolves the moment bureaucracy and paperwork are introduced.
I need to renew my driver's license. After studying for the written test, waiting for an hour at the DMV, getting sent to a different DMV, not being let inside the second DMV after waiting in the out-the-door line for another hour ...
Security guard: What's the point of letting you be in this line if you're missing part of the paperwork?
Me: But I have a question about that part, can you answer it?
Security guard: No, I don't know anything about that. The people inside would know.
Me: But you won't let me inside to ask.
Security guard: No. It's not worth anyone's time.
... and realizing that I'm going to have to go through this whole process again anyway when I change my name this fall, I had one of my patented being-a-grown-up-is-hard breakdowns* and called my dad to help bail me out.
It turns out that I can't actually get that awful paperwork without my dad signing over the title of my car to me, which he can't do until we're in the same place, which won't be until long after my license has expired. The best solution seemed to be to mail order a renewed Texas license to tide me over until I get my married name.
I had hoped to commiserate with my friend Steve, who also needs to renew his license, but he has elected to drive six hours each way to a DMV in middle-of-nowhere Missouri rather than deal with the dread Illinois office.
What we could all use is a rogue DMV clerk, like Robert DeNiro's vigilante HVAC repairman in Brazil.** He could burst in, fully armed, and bypass the whole system without so much as a 27b/6.
*To the layperson, these are very like my wedding-details-are-overwhelming breakdowns.
**I seem to watch mostly movies and TV shows that feed my paranoia.