I had to go to Traffic Night Court last night. Stupid story, really.
I'd forgotten to renew my driver's lisense. My renewal notice went to an old address and somehow didn't get forwarded. And who checks their own lisense? I didn't. So when I was driving and ended up in one of those random sobriety checkpoints, the cop notices that my lisense is expired. Oops. Stupid of me, I know. So I went and had it renewed.
Incidently, my new picture, in which I attempted to smile pleasantly, I look so freakin' stoned. I look like the picture was taken just at 'pass' in 'puff, puff, pass,' with the joint just outside the frame of the picture.
Anyway, I went to traffic court about a week ago, but their computers were down, and they rescheduled me. I batted my eyelashes and pretty-pleased and got in for Night Court, because I really didn't want to take any more time off work.
Last night I went in and the lines were almost non-existant, they were so short. I go in, show the judge that I've since fixed the problem and he dismissed it entirely, I only had to pay a $10 dismissal fee. I was pretty happy about that. I mean, it was my fault and I'd been careless, but that ticket really wasn't how I wanted to spend my money. After that, they headed me through a side door to pay the clerk. In that side room there were signs everywhere, tell you to turn off your cell phones. I reached for mine, and realized I'd left my purse in the courtroom. I couldn't go back through that door, so I just had to sit there and wait for the bailif to usher the next person through, PRAYING that no one would call my cell while it sat there. I just had this mental picture of them looking around as they were interrupted by the sounds of "Good Vibrations" coming loudly from my purse. Fortunatly the bailiff brought it to the door, joking that he'd wanted to keep it, but it didn't match his shoes.
Anyway, as I left, I felt this huge feeling of relief. I get paranoid in those sort of situations. I'm convinced that I'll accidently stab a security guard with a nail file while putting in a tray to go through the x-ray machine, or that I'll fill out a form wrong, somehow marking option 4 - "I robbed a bank," and then I'll sign it. I'm certain that the judge will be the person I accidently cut off on the freeway, on my way there. I'm sure they will all turn and say, "We know what you did," when I walk in, and even though I won't know what I did, I'll flush guiltily and they'll lock me up forever.
So as I left, I was feeling pretty good. I decided to take a little stroll through a nearby store, one that rents booths to small business type people. One woman runs a small pet shop. I don't like her operation, she breeds for volume, not health. Her birds are always overcrowded, and often look neglected, occasionally sick. I don't really like to support her back yard breeding, but one little parakeet caught my eye. It's easy to pass off an animal when it's young and cute and has no signs of the neglect yet. This one looked like he'd missed that. His tail feathers were ragged, his beak looked somewhat translucent and his legs lacked the healthy color of my birds. No little kid was gonna pick him out and beg their mother for him. He was still pretty young and seemed to be the most laid back in relation to the other birds in the overcrowded cage.
You see where this is going, right?
Yes, I bought him and named him Mick.
Gillian needed a new buddy, she was going nuts with loneliness since Augustine died. I hadn't heard her sing once since he died. And there were no adoptable parakeets in the area, yes, I checked that first.
Gillian and Mick seem to be getting along famously. I feel good about my choice to buy Mick, on about 8 different levels.
I'd forgotten to renew my driver's lisense. My renewal notice went to an old address and somehow didn't get forwarded. And who checks their own lisense? I didn't. So when I was driving and ended up in one of those random sobriety checkpoints, the cop notices that my lisense is expired. Oops. Stupid of me, I know. So I went and had it renewed.
Incidently, my new picture, in which I attempted to smile pleasantly, I look so freakin' stoned. I look like the picture was taken just at 'pass' in 'puff, puff, pass,' with the joint just outside the frame of the picture.
Anyway, I went to traffic court about a week ago, but their computers were down, and they rescheduled me. I batted my eyelashes and pretty-pleased and got in for Night Court, because I really didn't want to take any more time off work.
Last night I went in and the lines were almost non-existant, they were so short. I go in, show the judge that I've since fixed the problem and he dismissed it entirely, I only had to pay a $10 dismissal fee. I was pretty happy about that. I mean, it was my fault and I'd been careless, but that ticket really wasn't how I wanted to spend my money. After that, they headed me through a side door to pay the clerk. In that side room there were signs everywhere, tell you to turn off your cell phones. I reached for mine, and realized I'd left my purse in the courtroom. I couldn't go back through that door, so I just had to sit there and wait for the bailif to usher the next person through, PRAYING that no one would call my cell while it sat there. I just had this mental picture of them looking around as they were interrupted by the sounds of "Good Vibrations" coming loudly from my purse. Fortunatly the bailiff brought it to the door, joking that he'd wanted to keep it, but it didn't match his shoes.
Anyway, as I left, I felt this huge feeling of relief. I get paranoid in those sort of situations. I'm convinced that I'll accidently stab a security guard with a nail file while putting in a tray to go through the x-ray machine, or that I'll fill out a form wrong, somehow marking option 4 - "I robbed a bank," and then I'll sign it. I'm certain that the judge will be the person I accidently cut off on the freeway, on my way there. I'm sure they will all turn and say, "We know what you did," when I walk in, and even though I won't know what I did, I'll flush guiltily and they'll lock me up forever.
So as I left, I was feeling pretty good. I decided to take a little stroll through a nearby store, one that rents booths to small business type people. One woman runs a small pet shop. I don't like her operation, she breeds for volume, not health. Her birds are always overcrowded, and often look neglected, occasionally sick. I don't really like to support her back yard breeding, but one little parakeet caught my eye. It's easy to pass off an animal when it's young and cute and has no signs of the neglect yet. This one looked like he'd missed that. His tail feathers were ragged, his beak looked somewhat translucent and his legs lacked the healthy color of my birds. No little kid was gonna pick him out and beg their mother for him. He was still pretty young and seemed to be the most laid back in relation to the other birds in the overcrowded cage.
You see where this is going, right?
Yes, I bought him and named him Mick.
Gillian needed a new buddy, she was going nuts with loneliness since Augustine died. I hadn't heard her sing once since he died. And there were no adoptable parakeets in the area, yes, I checked that first.
Gillian and Mick seem to be getting along famously. I feel good about my choice to buy Mick, on about 8 different levels.
1 Comments:
that was nice. "Thumgs up"
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