Andare, Partire, Tornare


How many candy hearts can you put in your mouth at once?

And a happy Valentine's day to one and all. And don't get bloated on all that chocolate, hear? I'm perilously close to it, myself - there has been chocolate everywhere in the building and it's so easy to just stroll over to the next office and chow down. I'm going to be ill tonight, I just know it.

Some interesting news - the West Wing will be doing more filming here in late Feb, and they might be borrowing a portrait or other items from the museum to put in the background. It'll be late on a Sunday night, so the registrar here can't stay and supervise the film crews and basically make sure they don't back a camera into the portrait, or sit down on a 18th century chair, or what have you, so if the West Wing people do decide to use our items, I will get to stay and supervise them. And possibly meet Martin Sheen, Stockard Channing, and Dule Hill. *insert muffled squeal* Of course, nothing is for certain yet, but even the possibility is wildly exciting.

And Zee got her job at America West, so the possibility of cheap flights to Italy has just emerged. What a happy Valentine's Day this turned out to be!

Of course, it began with me paying off my tickets from Pennsylvania, so there was a cloud over the sun for a while. I'm wondering if it's even worth my while to appeal the first ticket, because I cannot for the life of me find the registration (it disappeared in the move) for that car, and I don't know if I can prove my case without it.

The thing is, we moved back to Virginia is stages, as some of you may recall from earlier diary entries. Tim went down first, and came back occasionally, but we didn't change the registration on the cars because he was still technically living with me. And then he moved back down there, and eventually changed the registration, and then I moved down there, and here's where we started to get a little dicy. As far as we knew, the car license plate was still good, but the inspection sticker wasn't. Since Virginia doesn't care about a car registered in PA having a valid inspection sticker, we thought we'd coast a bit and just take our time getting the car transfered to VA. And then I had the bright idea of driving the Bonnnie back to PA, thinking I'd not get caught, and was NAILED on not only the inspection, but on having expired plates, which is still the confusing part, because as far as Tim and I can determine, the plates should still be good till next June. It's a hundred and forty-four dollar ticket to appeal, which I can't really afford, but I'm not sure I should try to get out of, because of all the screwy missing paperwork.

I know, I know. I was stupid, and we're unorganized. The thing is, I end up keeping track of every important scrap of paper, because Bemo can't remember anything beyond his breakfast that morning, and sometimes even that's a little dodgy. So if I slip up, he's not there as a backup system. I'm surprised he remembers we even own the bloody car, let alone remembers where the registration is (it *SHOULD* be in the glove box, but then again, I *SHOULD* have won the lottery by now, so there's no accounting, is there?)

Phew. My, this entry turned ranty all of a sudden, didn't it? Like a good dog turnin' on ya! Bow-wow-wow!

I think I will go get more chocolate now. And water. Because water will wash away all the chocolate calories and leave me sparkling clean, pure, and untouched. Mmmm-hmmm.

3:08 p.m. - 2002-02-14


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