We recently moved to Massachusetts, so we’re still in the process of getting everything transferred over to our new address.
My husband asked me a few nights ago when I could take him to the gym (he can go for free as my guest), and suggested we could go after the DMV.
I thought to myself, “what? I have already been to the DMV twice in as many weeks to get my MA license and register both of our cars; like hell am I going for a third time.”
Then I corrected myself. “They call it the RMV here; instead of the Department of Motor Vehicles, it’s the Registry of Motor Vehicles, because this is the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and they have to be different.”
“What the frak is a Registry of Motor Vehicles, anyway? Isn’t a registry a list of the gifts you want? My version of a Motor Vehicle Registry would have a Tesla Model X, and perhaps a Lambo.”
See how practical I’ve gotten, guys? I could ask for any car I wanted, and my first choice was a plug-in grocery getter. However, I think that, while I’m still dreaming, I’d make sure it had side mirrors, and a custom purple paint job.