Spilled Milk… And Other Things Not Worth Crying Over

Let me preface this by saying that I just finished cleaning up spilled milk… for the second time tonight.   Both times with a smile plastered across my face… Really.  Since the time I was about 10 years old, I swore to myself that I would never throw a fit over (specifically) spilled milk.  (Sorry Dad for calling you out) My dad would get a lot more than peeved about spilled milk.  Mom would attempt to calm him with the loving words of “There’s no use in crying over spilled milk.”  And to my dad’s testament, those are the stupidest words in history.  True, it is ridiculous to cry over spilled milk; however, spilled milk is ANNOYING!  Especially, twice in one evening.  I mean, come on.  You know the glass is there.  How hard is it to avoid???

See, spilled milk is easy to avoid.  As I have discovered over the past year, the DMV… is not.  Last year, oh about May, I discovered that the DMV of New Mexico had decided to threaten the suspension of my Kentucky license.  ’Stupid threats,’ I scoffed.  Until it actually happened.  New Mexico suspended my Kentucky license over a ticket received in Ohio.  Duly note that I have never lived in, nor have I been licensed in, New Mexico.  They (New Mexico) became a part of this because of a typo.  Yes, a TYPO.  Instead of listing Lexington, KY, the charging officer input Lexington, NM.  And to my chagrin, even though there in no actual Lexington, NM, the DMV of New Mexico has taken it upon themselves to enforce my Ohio traffic ticket.

I won’t bore you with the details.  Suffice to say that I handled the situation, including paying the traffic ticket and dealing with the release of my suspended license.  Fast forward to July 2011 and another letter from New Mexico.  At this point, my head is spinning like that poor girl in the original Exorcist.  The letter is almost identical to the one that was sent a year and a few months previous.  They are threatening to suspend my license over a ticket received in Ohio of 2009.  A ticket that was handled over a year ago.  Proof that the DMV is run by the devil himself.

The good news is that I have my trump card, all the paperwork from last year.  Apparently, between 29 and 30, I learned something.  Right now I am flexing my muscles, pounding my chest, and wagging my butt at these stupid DMV letters.

I recognize the fact that most of the time, life totally wins.  It beats us at our best laid plans, our happiness, our hopes and dreams;  but sometimes we punk it.  Sometimes we get the upper-hand.  Sometimes we show the trump card.  Sometimes we pull one over on life.  Today, with my previous documentation, I did just that.  Boo-yah.

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