D.M.V.

Today, as it is exactly five days before my birthday and six days before the end of the month, I hauled my sorry, reluctant, and--it must be said--aging ass to the Department of Motor Vehicles (Drivers License Division) to renew my license.

[insert two hours and fifteen minutes, in which I read ninety pages of The Tale of Genji (abridged version), the book my book group is discussing Wednesday night at my house, which, by the way, what will I make for tasty and scintillating snacks? not to mention beverages?]

Apparently, my vision is just fine--no duel necessary--since the only comment she made was, "You wear contacts?" Which I don't. As a result, I have a temporary license with a picture of me that caused me to say Oy when I saw it. The examiner said, "Oy?" and laughed. Trust me on this. It's not terrible but it's not good either. Hard copy to come in the mail, two to three weeks from now.

Speaking of the mail, today the boots I ordered preemptively for myself for my birthday arrived. Oh my goodness, they are awesome:
































































I wore them to the D.M.V. for extra toughness, which it turns out wasn't really necessary, though it's always good to be prepared.