Am I Next?

mr. billKatie’s car went in to the shop this morning for its annual inspection. Which is to say Todd and I took Katie’s car in because she had school. What she didn’t have was the current insurance card in her glove compartment. So after much running around (wherein Todd and I took advantage of some sweet deals at Costco) I took a copy of the card in so the inspectors could inspect.

The insurance card debacle called to mind last spring when Taylor took his truck in for its inspection while he was home on break, only to be denied the required stickers because his registration was locked away in his safe. At school. In a completely different state. And this after I had mailed it to him with a note which read, “sign this and place it in the glove compartment of your truck.” But do they listen to Mom? Rarely.

As fate would have it, this incident was closely followed by Todd’s turn for an inspection wherein he, too, lacked the requisite registration. Couldn’t find it anywhere. Which meant we had to order a duplicate.

I now request a duplicate registration to keep in our files here at home just in case…

My first thought this morning was one of boastful pride. Pride that I’m the only one in my family who always has the proper documents when I take the car in for inspection. My next thought came less than a split second later. The fact that my Type A Todd had misplaced an important piece of paper leads me to believe it’s only a matter of time.

Now I’m paranoid.

On another note, and yet related, I was saddened to find out that Katie didn’t have all the presets on her stereo set.  It made me feel like a parental failure. Todd and I have always done our best to educate our children musically, even going so far as to surprising them with pop quizzes without warning when a classic rock song would come on the radio and asking, “Who sings this?” Both kids knew the full depth of our disappointment when they would fail the pop quizzes. Failure was rare.

To realize that she’d only fixed three out of the six presets hurt me. So I fixed the other three. And not with country. Because I don’t do country.

Then I found out they don’t hold the presets.

That made me feel so much better.

 

 

 

4 Comments

  1. Michele McMillan on January 5, 2013 at 12:23 pm

    You don’t do COUNTRY???? i have failed as a big sister…country has such depth, such conviction, such truth…how can you NOT do country????

  2. Lyn on January 5, 2013 at 12:32 pm

    Right on Michele! You can buy them the books, but you can’t make them read. Or I guess you can buy them CDs, but you can’t make them listen. sigh.

  3. Jenster on January 7, 2013 at 6:28 pm

    I will allow that I may have issues. I used to like country somewhat. My entire household loves country. For some reason, though, I can only listen to it for very short periods of time. I think I may have been traumatized as a young girl, listening to haunting country lyrics and tunes on the AM radio in the middle of the desert from the backseat of the station wagon before the sun had even come up. And being poked by a needlepoint needle by my big sister…

    • Michele McMillan on January 7, 2013 at 11:00 pm

      be thankful it was a needlepoint needle and not an embroidery needle!

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