So Phase One of my Road to Driving, which consisted of printing out an application for a replacement social security card, went so smoothly that I decided to leap ahead and actually submit the application. I say "smoothly" because I have a naturally sunny disposition and never complain or whine and hardly mention the fact that I couldn't print the fucking application because our sodomite of a printer is there apparently for ornamental purposes only, since it doesn't actually print anything. And don't get excited, it doesn't actually sodomize anyone either, it's just a euphemism for "cocksucking". Because who has a blog about motherhood and the joys of parenting and then uses "cocksucking" in the post?
Anyway, I had to print the application at work which delayed me by a few days, but it definitely went smoothly from there. The first thing that I usually read on official forms is the "Paperwork Reduction Act of 1995". which estimates how long it will take to read the instructions, gather the answer the questions for a replacement. Good news--8.5 to 9.5 minutes. I could squeeze that in.
There were some hurdles, of course. For example, one of the modes of identification that I had to bring to the Social Security office was a driver's license which poses an obvious problem to someone who needs a social security card to apply for a learner's permit.
But I overcame it all. I even stood on the security line at the Federal Plaza in Manhattan to get to the Social Security office. Something happens to me when I have to stand on a line. Maybe it's because as a kid I stood on bread lines in the pre-Atkins Soviet Union, but I just refuse to get in line. There is a pizza place in NYC that has a line and I've never been. I know the line is supposed to signal its greatness, but it's not worth it to me. And when I am forced, by circumstances beyond my control, to stand on a line, I start to panic. Like I'm afraid that I will have to stand on line for the rest of my life, and I will do anything, including renounce my citizenship, to get it over with.
And then, for some insane reason, when it was my turn to go through the metal detector, I decided to use charm on the security guard, forgetting completely that "charm" is not part of my repertoire, and that I did not have any contraband on me, so there was absolutely no need for it. Fortunately, that did not land me in Gitmo. Although maybe they're waiting until I actually get my social security card?
The application process itself was a cakewalk and I will be getting the card in one to two weeks. I will be by the mailbox if you need me.