Like, assassins must get, like, SO depressed sometimes.


I started into the third Robin Hobbs book today at the Secretary of State office, while waiting to renew the tags on the Boy's car (which we've been driving around illegally for the past few weeks). "Grk!" I said when I heard of it. But it's fixed now. All better. Whew.

Then the Boy mentions offhandedly that his drivers license is expired too.

*sigh*

I must say that it's very kooky to drive a Cadillac around, no matter how old. For those of you who weren't aware, the Boy received the caddy for free from the non-profit place he worked. People were constantly donating cars for the tax write-off, and after his ancient rust heap of a van nearly killed him, his boss said the next donated car was his. Ding! Caddy! Thus the weird discrepancy of us--penniless, driving a Caddy-- rich old people car. The world is a strange and unpredictable place. What makes driving it odd is that people obviously expect you to be something else. You just get different kind of looks from people when you drive a car like that.

Especially when you try to pay with all change at the drive through.