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When you grab a hold of me; Tell me that I'll never be set free; But I'm a parasite, creep and crawl I step into the night.

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Very Bitter Monkey

So this is a bitch about the husband…I had to renew the registration on my car last month, and when my husband put the new sticker on my car he noticed the sticker on his truck had expired. He didn’t remember getting a renewal notice, but whatever. So, off he trots to the local oil change hut to get a smog check and wouldn’t you know it the truck fails. Now, be aware, this is not some crusty old beater. It’s a 2003 Dodge truck. So, why did it fail? Because the check engine light that has been on since this summer caused an automatic fail. After months of me nagging to take in to the dealership, my husband is forced to because he needs to get whatever fixed so that it will pass a smog test and we can get it register. And what was wrong? The air conditioning had basically burnt out. There were two options, (A) repair the air condition system or (B) bypass the system and reset the engine light so that the truck will pass the smog test. My husband choose option A, and $950 later the truck was fixed and passed the test. On a side note, my husband did make the statement that he had noticed this pass summer when he used the air conditioner it only spewed hot air…Hello!!! Time to get that checked. Okay, so smog is done, let’s get on-line and register it, right? Nope, since he has no idea where the renewal notice is he doesn’t have the code so we can’t do it on-line. But, no worries his friend at work told him that he can do it over the phone. Off he goes to make the call, when what happens? They tell him there is a problem with his insurance, from what they can tell it has lapsed. So, he rips through his car and can find every other insurance card he has ever had for the car, but the most recent. But then again, he forgot that we just got his new one in the mail and I put it next to where he keeps his wallet and keys so that he would remember to put it in his car. So, he goes through there and can’t find it, yet funny enough when I look I find it. And wouldn’t you know it the new card is future dated and doesn’t take effect for about a week, so still no insurance card. Next step, call the insurance company and have them send a copy of the card, but they are changing computer systems and having a hard time locating the old policy. So, we get to today, by this time the new insurance card is effective and since it is my day off, I am asked to renew the registration at the local DMV. I am told by the spouse that it should not be a problem since the card is now current and he talked to the insurance people and if there are any issues to just call them. So, I wait in line 30 minutes just to get a number, wouldn’t you know it they won’t give me a number because of the “lapse” in insurance. So, I call the insurance company, and they send over the verification, but for whatever bizarre reason the old and the new policy are in Arizona, and I still can not register the car (but in the past it was an Arizona policy and there was not issue!?!). Here I sit, after stupidly believing my husband had straighten all his shit out, having spent the day either in line at the DMV or on the phone with the insurance people, and still no registration. Any wonder why I’m a very bitter monkey.

3 Comments:

At 9:41 PM, Blogger Cladeedah said...

Sounds like now would be a bad time for me to brag about the special "law enforcement window" I get access to at the DMV, so I'm just going to go ahead and not mention it..

 
At 10:36 AM, Blogger Yukon Sully said...

Slightly off-topic, but where you at the big DMV office on Kietzke? That place is so Kafka-esque it scares me. The 'Tomorrowland' architecture, the giant red digital readouts, the soothing disembodied voice that announces when your number is called, somehow it all makes me feel like I'm taking part in some sort of futuristic breeding experiment. Only it's still boring.

 
At 2:17 PM, Blogger Housekeeper said...

That's the place, the voice is odd and the place makes me feel dirty. I only end up at the DMV once every eight years, and all the people who are there remind me of those that hang out at walmart.

 

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