T.F.G.I.S.

Thank fucking god it's Saturday.

And I mean it.

Want to hear about my Friday? Too bad, I'm going to tell you anyway.

We drove down to Dale City to check out a fairly decent townhouse - 3 levels, nice end unit, big windows, cute stream in the back. The house had actually gone on the market Thursday afternoon around 3, but neither Morgan nor I had the time or energy to battle rush hour to go down and see it. Morgan called the sellers at 8:45am on Friday, just to double check that it was okay to look at. So, we went at 9am, the second the lockbox opened to look at the house. It was adorable inside, well maintained, a fireplace!!

We decided by 9:15 we'd like to make an offer on it. 9:30, Morgan called to get the fax number to fax our offer, but alas, we were too late; the house was SOLD. Sometime between 8:45 and 9:30 an offer was faxed in and accepted. Someone bought the house literally from under our feet.

Instead of taking this as an omen for the day to come, we plugged on. Dropped Evan back off at work, went to the doctor, called Lauren a few times, and then the fun began.

I picked up Lauren to go to the DMV. Always a fantastic finish of the week. I needed new registration stickers for Evan's car, and she needed a vast array of DMV documents. After paying my outrageous sum of money (okay, okay, it was only $63. But still outrageous), I waited in line for Lauren's new license with her. When it was our turn, a man with a lightbulb shaped head asked what we needed. Lauren, in her polite Michigan voice explained she needed to pick up her new license. Lightbulb man asked who told us to come to him for that. I piped in that the man three windows down had, in fact, sent us down here.

"That's NOT true," said the lightbulb. Minor aggitation and a few choice words later, we left with Laurens license and my registration in hand. We were unsuccessful in getting the stickers for her car though. Keep that in mind, it will be important later.

We meandered into the parking lot, bitching about the DMV and the state (commonwealth) of Virginia, when lo and behold, there is the spot where I left my car. Only, my car is missing. MISSING!!!!! I paced like a mad woman, Lauren lit a panic Parliament, and we mused about what could've happened to it. Enter: The sign.

The sign that I swear was definately not there when we got to the DMV. The sign that was directly behind the sign that said "DMV." The sign that says "Parking for Dollar Store Only. No DMV parking." And below it, the number of a tow company.

I called. Yes, ma'am, they sure did have my car. They'll gladly release it for $95 cash. NO checks. NO credit. NO debit. NO money order. Give them the green.

But how to get there...We begin calling 411 to get the numbers of local cab companies, when Crazy Cabbie wanders out of the DMV. I run up to him, and try to explain our situation. He is off duty, but agrees to run us up the road to Lauren's house. We pile in and get underway. Crazy Cabbie missed our turn, and proceeds to put the cab in reverse and back up half a block down the Columbia Pike. We throw $8 at him and leap from the car never to look back.

Back on the road in Lauren's Buick, we stop at 7-11 so I can MAC out the appropriate fees to pay the ridiculous towing fare. The second my foot hits the pavement, my flip flop broke. I kick the shoes off, and proceed into 7-11 barefoot, carefully avoiding sticky melted Slurpee and the just mopped section.

My money safely tucked back into my wallet, I hop barefooted into Laurens car where we proceed to drive around for 2 hours, following erroneous directions from some punk kid who answers the phone at said ghetto tow company. We end up in the parking lot of the DMV, where it all started and demand to be given EXACT directions.

As we pull from the parking lot of the DMV, there was a cop, waiting at the light. As we passed, he turned his head and gave us the police staredown. Sure enough, he rounded the turn and the gumball lit up.

Lauren showed him the papers from the DMV. She showed him her new license, still hot off the DMV presses. She showed him the papers and explained the ones she forgot, so she couldn't get her stickers. He sneered, and wrote a ticket anyway.

Friday ended with the two of us curled into our own little respective ball, wrapped in a blanket, semi-comatose state.

Registration Stickers: 63.00
Cab Ride: 8.00
Tow Fee: 95.00
Pain and Suffering: 14 million
______________________________
TOTAL FEE: $14,000,166
TOTAL FUN: 0