Fucking lemons = fucking lemonade. I suck in a trite classroom poster kind of way.

On the serious bright side (whatever the fuck that means, somehow I’m picturing seriously bright, like lasers), I really needed the free time. My car is about to be illegal in multiple ways simultaneously, and to make that not happen I need(ed) to pay off parking tickets in three different towns. Plus I need to get it inspected, and now there are a lot fewer places to go, and, as always, you have to go during a regular 9-5 type of day. So far, two towns down on the tickets, one to go. You gotta pay cash when you are trying to get the paper to prove to the registry that your deadbeatedness has been resolved, and there’s a limit on how much cake the ATM will let me get.)

I should be more careful with writing about the parking violations. Knowing my current luck, I’ll be mistaken for the criminal element for sure. (How stupid is it when the most criminal thing you got going on is parking tickets, but you are expected to undergo a psych evaluation, because you might explode at any minute. Seriously, yeah, I might just pop and, watch out, you might see me not feeding the meter on time. Yeah, I’m a rebel. No quasi-legal parking space is safe when this wild woman feels the urge. Hide those lawn chairs or barrels, I’m liable to stack them on the curb neatly off the street and park anyway. You just never can tell, I’m a maverick.)

Last time I needed to re-register my car or renew my license, I couldn’t find the time to take out of my work day. My bro, who was between computer companies, did me a righteous solid and went to the Boston City Hall parking desk for me. Is that fucking ridiculous or what?

I am soooooo glad I worked soooooo hard and put my own life on hold. Man, I am so friggin’ smart I can’t stand it.