Even Nostradamus did not see that coming.
Two posts ago, I had written something to the effect of, I passed the trial of fire that is the Driver Theory Test. I left the testing centre in Drogheda with a letter saying that I had passed and a certificate with a deeply, grossly, abnormally unflattering photograph of somebody that kind-of, not-really, resembled me. I was an eye test away from gaining my driver license. Provisional.
The next day, I went to this place with a tacky name, to apply for it. I had to bring along my passport, the one with the photo of what I would look like, had the 11B bus ran me over. Twice. Really, why does everyone's passport picture look so fugly? That is THE eternal question, along side the meaning of life and how to find the perfect stone-washed jeans. They needed it for identification. OK, good luck with that.
Flash forward to five hours later, and my father starts looking for the receipt that apparently, I got. I got no such thing, of course. Then this happened. (I'm Carrie, obviously.)
Without the receipt, I could not claim my passport. Like I ever use it.
Yesterday, I lost my passport. For an hour. He went back to the thing and asked the thing for that wretched thing. He got it.
I can't wait for my license. I'll get via snail-mail in 5 to 7 days. *Fingers crossed*
Btw, am I getting good at making up puns for titles, or what?
Posts
1 comment:
; )
Post a Comment