Day 2 of my two-day DMV torment. They claim they did not receive the faxed license they were supposed to have gotten yesterday. (Who do I have to bribe to make sure they don't just throw it out?) The Ice Bag says "Didn't you storm out of here last night?"
No, I wasn't angry last night, I think I did a fine job of keeping my cool... I hadn't expected a smooth transaction, I didn't get one, I wasn't really disappointed. WHY, DID YOU MISS YOUR GODDAMN QUOTA OF PISSED-OFF MOTORISTS?
She proceeds to explain how, if I want a transfer from joint-ownership to single-ownership, both owners must sign the title as "sellers" and I have to sign as "purchaser". This is pretty much exactly what I did last time I transferred a title here, for which she condescended to me, made noises as if I had brough the whole process to a grinding halt, and that some doom would then befall me and my hapless vehicle. (That time, she must have spoken to her supervisor, who I can only assume told her "if you can't get the stick out from up your ass, at least get the stick out from up the ass of the stick up your ass.")
THIS time around, however, I am on to her game. I know the roadblocks to expect, the co-owner will gladly sign off this weekend, and if the Ice Bag gives me any flak I'll smooch her. If that doesn't incapacitate her, nothing will, and I'll have solved the riddle of the Antichrist's identity. ("Man nor beast"...)
Lee agrees to lend me some CCR cd's. "Lodi" sums up my feelings, in the funny good way, today.