Frank notifies me last night that we will, for certain, definitely be going to the MVA (Motor Vehicle Administration, for you DMV'ers) the following day, and we will be going EARLY. It opens at 8:30, and we should be there as close to when it opens as possible. He has one of those "no line, first ones there" dream scenarios in his head. I notify him that his expectations should be lowered asap. People with homes are sleeping at the door of the MVA right now to crush his dreams, and besides, I'm not sure how reliable my body will be at whatever hour it is I'm supposed to get up to do that.
I ask when I should set the alarm for. Frank says he'll just wake up, no problem, and he'll get me up. Perfect, I think. It's midnight right now. There's no way he'll wake up that early on his own, and then we won't have to go, because he'll figure it'll be too busy later on.
"Okay, great. Thanks honey." He promises bagels in the morning, and I figure I can probably pressure him for those either way, so I snuggle in beside him, my smug pursed lips reveling in the deep, deep rem sleep to come.
HA. Nice try. Frank hops up and starts readying like an oversensitive solar panel, just like he always does. I manage to open my eyes, and see that it's 7:15. Nightmare.
He hops back into bed to gently tell me to get moving.
"I need five minutes." (backs into Frank's body for comfort)
"NO! No snuggles!" (JUMPS out of bed--knows this is a trick to buy time)
"MEH--Worst day ever!!" (exaggerated pout and fetal position)
(Laughs and succombs to whining) "Just for a minute."
I am appeased, and in an effort to, yes, please my husband, I comply with civil requests to rise from sleep, and get dressed. I feel shockingly well this morning, which I attribute to a great Cobb salad I managed to eat in the late evening out with friends, and also to good juju from making my husband's life so easy. I guess I hadn't had time to get too hungry yet. (SAT PREP--Normal: Hungry ; Pregnant: Nauseous)
We collect our hundreds of thousands of valid documents, grab two Gatorades for the road, and head to the car. It is 8:10. My human-like state is miraculous. Time to make good on that agreement.
"So where are we getting these bagels?"
"Sighh 'something about how it's already 8:10' blah blah blah"
"YOU PROMISED ME A BAGEL. THERE'S A PLACE AROUND THE CORNER. WE'RE GETTING BAGELS."
"Okay, let's get bagels."
"I will collect what is OWED to me."
"What are you, Rumplestiltskin?"
We've been watching Once Upon a Time. Here is a scene in which Mr. Stiltskin shows how dedicated and maniacal he is about his deals. It may be tricky, but when he says "baby", try to picture him saying "bagel", and when she talks, pretend she wants a drivers liscence.
http://abc.go.com/watch/clip/once-upon-a-time/SH014194780000/PL55147652/VD55153097/emma-makes-a-deal-with-mr-gold/moments
I get bagel, Frank ends up springing for some kind of muffin. I am happy, and sing songs about bagels all the way to Glen Burnie. Most notably was a parody of this Ja-Rule hit. Again, instead of "baby", think "bagel". Every thug needs a bagel.
So we finally get to our actual destination, I find a sweet pull-through spot, and I am actually talking Frank into the idea that this will be easy and will be over before we know it.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
We wait about 10 minutes in the line to get our ticket for the line. We sit down, make lots of jokes about waiting for a long time, and how the letter/number ticket system is designed with logarithms that trick your mind into thinking that you have the potential to be next in line eons before you actually are, making it seem like you are in the same moment over and over, keeping fury at bay for hours of actual wait time. We get a little antsy, but are generally having a good time together in the waiting area.
The problem is that we have two separate ticket numbers, and eventually, we will have to separate to different realms of the Motor Vehicle Assylum.
Part 2 of this epic drama to-be-continued.
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