June saw three complete days of sunshine, July, in its infancy, has seen none. Most of you know this-- you have sloshed through the puddles, shaken wet umbrellas, and succumbed, however reluctantly, to the ever-present gloom. I'm pointing out the obvious, but it's gotten to the point when talking about the weather isn't small talk anymore.
According to forecasts, the sun will show itself tomorrow. Good thing, the gloom, more than the rain, has started to take its toll on even the most hale and stalwart among us.
Despite the foul weather, my spirits are lifted now that my license has been renewed. It was an ugly affair and I'm disinclined to share the details, so traumatic it was, but I'd be craven if I held back. One needs to stare the beast in the eyes, however it manifests itself, in order to overcome it.
So, I had to renew my license by my birthday, which falls this weekend. Before I could do that, however, I needed to pay off unpaid parking tickets, one in Somerville and a whopping six in Andover. The one in Somerville was completely bogus. I haven't parked on the street since I paid off my last tickets. I didn't even see the ticket; I found out I got one when I received notice in the mail. And, stupid me, I couldn't dispute it because I missed my hearing. And the Andover tickets were from parking in the municipal lot by my work. There, you can't pay for the whole day; the longest you can go is four hours before you have to go out and purchase another ticket. While I was diligent most of the time, there were occasions when the realization would hit me, too late, that I needed to go feed the meter, so to speak. In Andover, they have constant patrols of fat little trolls that drive around in tiny golf carts and ticket cars with unrestrained zeal. I never stood a chance. I no longer park in that lot, thank God.
Earlier in the week, my plan was to walk over to the town hall, which is only a couple of blocks from my work, and pay the tickets. And then, before work one day, I would head over to the parking clerk's office and pay off the Somerville ticket. I figured I was looking at a little under a hundred dollars, all told. I was off in my estimate.
On Tuesday, before I headed up to Nashua to do some recording at the Registry of Deeds, I stopped at the Town Hall. I was told I couldn't pay my tickets there, that I needed to see a Deputy Collector. The woman at the counter gave me a sheet of paper that listed the different locations I could go to. Silly me for thinking I could pay off tickets in the town they were generated from.I perused the list and saw that the Lowell RMV was on it. Ok, I thought, it's on my way to Nashua. Only a little inconvienent.
I took care of the recording first and went to the RMV on my way back. My plan was to scope out the situation and determine whether I could do my business quickly without having to use my lunch break. When I stepped foot in the building, there was a swarming mass of people milling about. Just as I was thinking there was no way this was going to be a quick affair, I was told that the Deputy Collector's office was in a room out back and that I could go there directly without having to wait.
When I got to the room, I was met with a sign that read, " Out to lunch. Back at 2." Fuck! I looked at the time. It was 1:45. I thought it over and decided to wait. I was there and wanted to get it over with.
At 2:10, the Deputy Collector breezed past me with a look of barely-contained hostility and walked into her office. Maybe she had a crummy hour-plus lunch. Poor gal. I gave her my info and she said, "That'll be $305.00."
Fuck!
"Why are they that much?"
"I don't know. It just says you owe this much. Oh, and this doesn't include the Somerville ticket."
"Of course it doesn't. So are you saying I can't pay that one here?"
"No, you have to go to Somerville. "
"Of course I do."
I started to write out a check and was told they don't accept them.
"But I called before I got here and they said I could pay with a check. "
"The Registry takes checks", she said.
"I'm not in the Registry?"
"No."
I shook my head in disbelief and stormed out. I actually called first. Don't they always say to call first? Where did that get me? So, let's see: I go to Andover to pay my Andover tickets, but can't pay them in Andover. I go to the RMV in Lowell to pay off the Andover tickets and hopefully the Somerville ticket. I can't pay the Somerville ticket there, I have to go to Somerville to pay it. And, even though I called before my arrival and had it confirmed that I could pay with a check, I was told that I couldn't because, even though I was in the RMV, I wasn't at the RMV, where checks are accepted. If I had brought a sword with me, I would have disemboweled myself, Seppuku style.
My ride back to work was not pleasant. I was pissed at the of amount of money I had to pay, pissed that I let things get to this point, pissed at the whole experience. I screamed at myself like a Drill Sergeant, upset at how poorly I've managed my life, at how nothing ever comes easily for me. My income is lousy, yet here I am about to pay over four hundred dollars, when all was said and done.
I thought I was going to lose it. Everything that sucked in my life took center stage. I returned to work and couldn't concentrate. I did some breathing exercises, tried to clear my mind. Detachment. It worked. I snapped out of my funk and felt better. I knew I'd be alright from that point onward.
Yesterday,I told Marcy about my situation and we worked it out so that I could take some time today to pay my tickets and renew my license. I had paid my ticket in Somerville before work and the plan was to take the T into Government Center this morning and pay off the remaining tickets at City Hall. From there I'd take the T outbound and get off at Haymarket and do some recording at the Suffolk registry. And from there, I'd take the T back to Lechmere Station, walk back to the Cambridgeside Galleria, where my car was parked, and go to the RMV that's housed within it and renew my license.
For the most part, things went according to plan. I paid off the tickets at City Hall, and, as I was leaving, the guy at the counter asked me if I was going to do anything at the RMV. I told him I was and he said I'd have to have my Somerville ticket cleared before I went.
"But I just paid it yesterday. They gave me a receipt and told me I was all set."
"Yeah, but they had to clear the ticket, which is a different procedure. They should have given you a blue form."
I thanked the guy for the heads up, walked out to the plaza and called the Parking Clerk's office in Somerville. After being disconnected a few times, I got someone on the line. They put me on hold as they investigated the situation. I cleared my mind and relaxed my body. I told myself everything was going to work out. I sent out positive vibes. The woman got back on the phone and told me I was all set. She apologized for the inconvenience. I thanked her and hung up. Things were going well. If the clerk in City Hall hadn't informed me about the Somerville situation, I would have gone to RMV and been rejected.
I called Marcy and she told me we weren't funded yet, so I would have to hold off recording at Suffolk. She suggested I go back to Cambridge and renew my license and, once that was accomplished, hopefully I'd be able to head back to Haymarket and record.
At the RMV, I only had to wait for about fifteen minutes before I was called up to the counter. The woman assisting me was nothing short of sassy, which made for an entertaining experience. The RMV in Cambridge is a tiny shoebox of an outpost, and every time I go there, everyone -- the clerks and customers alike -- are usually friendly and conversational. I was especially thankful for that today because I was starting to tire of the ornery people I'd been encountering lately.
I got my license, my journey was over. I called my dad and gave him the news. He shared my relief. I had called my parents to vent after my frustrating day in Lowell and they had offered to help me out in any way they could. My mother, in particular, was worried I wouldn't get everything done in time. More than anything, my call today was meant to assuage her concerns.
I got back on the T, but not before getting battered by a torrent of rain, and got off at Haymarket and made my way to the Registry of Deeds. The recording went well, aside from the clerk scolding me about the margins on some of the pages being wet.
"Frankly, I'm amazed they're not entirely drenched after what I just went through.", I said. She had no response.
I left Suffolk around two o'clock. I called Marcy with the recording info. She left it up to me if I wanted to head back to work or stay local. I thought about it and opted for the latter option. I was tired.
It's been a long week.
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