I just wasted my afternoon at the DMV. For fear of sounding like a 90s standup comedian (“Did you ever wonder why …?”), I won’t relate the whole tedious episode, but I will just say that I wish there was some way they could tell you as soon as you walk in the door whatever fucked-up thing they’re going to tell you that’s going to ruin your day when you finally reach the counter after waiting in line for 3 hours so you could just turn around and go home. You might still be furious, but you’d have all afternoon to get over it. Because you know they’re going to tell you some fucked-up completely unexpected thing that’s going to make it impossible for them to do what you need done despite the fact that you did all your research, compiled the stack of documents proving that you are who you say you are and have been since the day you were born and that you live where you say you live and that you are not a terrorist.
It turns out that, if you’re trading your Texas license for a New York license, you need an additional sheaf of something or other because Texas, former sovereign state and all, decided to be unique and not put the date of issuance on their driver’s licenses, which information other states require in order to issue a new license. It’s probably not a big issue in Texas because not many Texans leave.
Well, anyway, I did get something accomplished today. I got an HIV test. At my first visit to my new general practitioner, weeks ago, he ordered a bunch of blood tests (syphilis, cholesterol, etc.), but suggested I go to the city clinic for a “rapid” HIV test since I could have the results in minutes instead of the days or weeks it would take to get results back from his lab. It seemed like a great idea at the time because I’ve always found it incredibly nerve-wracking waiting for HIV test results. But today was the first day I was able to get to the clinic (anything that needs to be done during the day has to be done on a Wednesday, my day off, so naturally my Wednesdays get booked up pretty far in advance) so I ended up actually waiting for several weeks for the results of that test that only took 20 minutes to get the results of. I’m still negative.
And I stopped at Whole Foods in Chelsea for my Weleda sage deodorant, which in this weather is only marginally effective but it’s the only thing my skin can tolerate. While I was there (I’m not much of an impulse shopper but sometimes I am totally seduced by natural body care stores) I picked up some Tom’s toothpaste, a jar of fancy Neti pot salt, and a pair of biodegradable flip-flops. Stop smiling, they’re cute. And I need them so I don’t burn my feet walking to and from the beach on Fire Island, which is apparently a thing I do now.