Today I put my motorcycle back on the road. To do this, I had to go to my insurance office, then the local Registry of Motor Vehicles. Recently (within the past 5 years or so) my insurance office moved. They are in the same general part of town, but in a slightly different place. They moved into an office park. Since I haven't been there in two or three years, I wasn't sure of their exact location, and I wound up driving around the office park a little before I gave in and called.
"Oh, we're now located on [blah-blah] street."
"Hey! I just passed [blah-blah] street! I'll be there in a minute or two."
"Okay, sir, we'll be waiting."
Feeling a sense of accomplishment at getting what I was thinking of as 'the hard part' done so easily, I went right to the insurance office and had a quick in-and-out visit.
Now for the easy part, I thought. I know exactly where the Registry is!
This was perfect, since I had limited time. I had to get somewhere to pick up Handsome in about two hours.
So I drove to the Registry. I should say I drove to the last place I left the Registry. That's how you find things, right? You go to the last place you left them, and there they are. Unless, of course, you can't remember where you last left something.
Or if some son-of-a-bitch moved it on you.
So I went to the place that I last left the Registry. On Cabot street. It was the last place my insurance agent left it too, since when I said I was going straight to the registry, she said "The one right on Cabot street?" "Yes," I said, and drove straight to Cabot street. I came around the bend where I had left the Registry with my right eye looking for a parking space and the left looking to the Registry to see if it looked busy. As I drove past the building, the right eye tapped the left eye in the shoulder.
"Dude? I need a little help over here."
"Is it a depth perception thing?" said the right eye.
"No," said the left eye. "I just want to know if you see what I see."
"What are you..." started the right eye. Then it squinted a bit. "Oh crap!"
"Yeah," said the left eye. "That's what I thought. You want to tell him?"
"Why don't we both tell him?"
So they did.
"What the [radio edit]!" I was befuddled and angry. "Where's the [radio edit]ing Registry?"
I pulled over to verify what my eyes were telling me.
The Registry wasn't where I left it. In its place was a pottery shop.
Wait! perhaps this wasn't where I had left the Registry! Maybe I was in the wrong place!
"Nope," my eyes told me, a bit sheepishly. "That's the Registry parking lot behind the building there. We're in the right place." That left only one explanation.
Some complete and utter bastard had moved the Registry on me!
I remained calm. Relatively calm. I called 411 and asked for the listing for the local RMV. I had them send a text to my phone so that I could see the address, while I drove about to find where the complete and utter bastard had put the Registry. I looked at the screen on my phone.
'76 Cabot Street'
I looked at the number on the building before me.
'76 Cabot street'
I looked at the ground floor of 76 Cabot street. Pottery in the window, some kind of pottery shop sign outside.
I really didn't have time for this.
"Don't look at us," chorused my eyes. "We're just doing our job!"
I took a deep breath through my nose. My mouth dropped open and -
This portion of this WYMOP has been censored by the Management, due to it's extreme Adult content. And the fact that we have to look some of the words up. We're pretty sure that he ran out of conventional curses and simply began to make @#$% up.
I got my breath back as I drove to the the new location of the nearest RMV. It's in the Mall.
Not my favorite place, the Mall. Especially when you're in a hurry. Add on to that the fact that going to the RMV is usually just about as much fun as a sharp stick in the eye. Especially when you're in a hurry! I'd tell you about my trip into the Mall, but I don't have time. But if I ever find the *&%$@ who moved the Registry on me and shoved it into the Mall I'll make some time, time enough to take his head and shove it-
This portion of WYMOP has been censored by the Management. Please see above.
Besides, we're pretty sure that what he has planned for that guy is anatomically impossible.
*pant* *pant* *pant* *pant*
Talk to you later!
P.S. - I made it to Handsome on time, but it took some... 'creative' driving.