I am thinking about running to the grocery store for sour cream when I
have a random thought. I suddenly remember that I might have had to
renew my license this year. I check and discover that my license
expired seven weeks ago,
and the registry never notified me. Apparently
I have been careening around everywhere on an expired license. So I drive (illegally) to the registry, and,
shockingly enough, the woman at the counter has a twisted sense of humor (and
some killer shoes). She and I have a
grand ole time filling out paperwork, looking at little numbers, and posing for
hideous pictures. Well, I do all the
work, she just clicks the buttons and takes the money. I am in and out of there in less than thirty
minutes, which has to be some kind of Bureaucratic Land Speed Record. Yay for the Lawrence Registry! (Never thought those words would come out of
my mouth.)
After that positive experience, I decide to run the gauntlet
north up route 28 through the crime-riddled, politically corrupt city. I am now officially more legal than
three-quarters of the Lawrence population, so I figure it's safe to take to
their roads again. I head to the Teacher
Store, which is in the dregs of Methuen ... cough cough North Lawrence cough
cough... (I can say that because I lived in that neighborhood on Center
Street), and the store wants three times the price for bulletin board paper
than advertised on their online website.
It will cost me around $60 to cover my classroom bulletin boards. I say as much to a lady buying some rolls of
paper, and she screeches, "Really?!" (Nah, I'm
flippin' lying to ya - I spend my days going from store to store to piss
people off for shits and giggles.) So I
leave without buying anything. (And no,
I do NOT make a scene. Imagine THAT!)
Then I drive back down route 28 to the North Andover
(really Lawrence, people,
let's just call it what it is) Staples hoping they have rolls of paper. I saw two rolls of yellow paper at Staples in Salem, NH
the other day and didn't buy them (tax free) -- kick kick kick. But, of course, this Staples doesn't have any
rolls of paper nor any place to stock it.
I need highlighters, so I stand at the sale bin for about thirty seconds
then lean over and grab the last two sets of colored highlighters. Without any warning nor reverse backup signal
beeping noises, a lady with two young snot-nosed kids comes out of nowhere and
starts yelling at me because her five-year-old daughter (who must truly NEED
highlighters being in advanced preparatory kindergarten and all) wants the pink
and purple ones I have in my hand. I
pretend to be deaf (no disrespect to the truly hearing impaired) and walk away
holding the highlighters where the tiny terrorista can see them ... but not
have them. I refrain from sticking my
tongue out at the indignant child, because I think this might be overkill. (I chuck her the bird in my mind, instead.)
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| Welcome to the Jungle (Lawrence, MA) |
