The storm that had blown in overnight dropped another foot of snow up at Tahoe and here we were well down into the 30s again. I'm talking cold! Rainy days have a chill of their own, and by the time I got back from chores I felt like a character from "Frozen." The wood rack was pitifully low but I brought in a few of the sticks left and tried to coax a fire. It wouldn't be the blazing logs I dreamed of, but it might be enough to stop my shaking. Daydreaming, visions of thermostats danced through my head.
I picked up Cam and we drove through the hills and the rain continued to fall. I dropped Camille at her stop and went on to DMV, where my dream turned into a nightmare and I wished someone, anyone, would wake me up. I'd called twice to verify exactly what was needed to make the process go smoothly and had the paperwork in hand. The smiling young chickie-poo behind the counter gave me two more forms to complete (I'd already filled out two the young man had handed me when I finally reached the front of the line). Then Chickie said, "Where is your smog check certification?" No one had said I needed a smog check and Truck wasn't due for one. "You have to get a smog check." DMV employees are implacable. "And I'll need your license plates." I had no tools with me. "Can someone here remove them for me?" "No. But you can bring those by later." I wrote a check for the exorbitant fee. "Oh dear," said CP, "I forgot to check the box for new plates. That will be another $15." I wrote another check. She handed me a sheaf of papers and told me to take Truck around the building so someone could verify the VIN under the hood. I did as ordered and Truck balked. He refused to release the catch that would open the hood. I worked at it, and the verifier worked at it. Finally, Truck relented and gal checked another box, handed me back the papers and told me to go back to see CP again. Aarrgh! Dutifully, with difficulty I found another place to park Truck and went back in. And Chickie said,"I'm sorry, but Steve has to be removed from the title, and that will be another $20." "But the title was issued as 'or,' not 'and'. Just leave him on. He's been dead going on twelve years. I promise he won't be driving the vehicle." "No, we'd need his signature to do that." (Yeah, well, good luck with that one.) I wrote another check, anything to be released from this nightmare. Finally, new plates in hand, this Elvis left the building. Brake Guy also does smog checks and I called, hoping to put an end to this debacle without making another trip to town. Brake Guy is closed on Fridays. Of course he is.
At home at last, during a break in the rain I brought more wood to the porch, fed Stove, and sat down to nurse my wounds.
It was not a day I'd care to repeat.