Written Will from the BMV

Until a week ago, I always thought the best people-watching was done at airports. 
Last week I made a quick stop at the Bureau of Motors Vehicles. 
Let me correct that. 
Last week I wasted a portion of my life at the Bureau of Motors Vehicles. 


I knew it was going to be bad before I even made it through the door. I noticed a lady walking in behind me, so I stopped and held the door for her. Never one to pass up a moment to laugh, I said, "I just hate this place! I always leave in a bad mood!" 


She didn't agree. She just smiled and thanked me for holding the door. Then she walked past me and put her purse away, put her name tag on, and called the next number in line. Which, thank goodness, was not mine. 


Nope, she called 233 and I pulled 264. 


I took a seat next to a guy who reeked of booze and cigarettes. I seriously didn't know if I was at the BMV or or the Buggy Wheel Saloon in Coleman, Texas. Not a great idea on his part since he was there to get his license back - though I never told him that. I was too busy putting Visene in my eyes.


"What number you got?" the booze-cruiser asked me. 
"Ummm.....cell number?"  I asked, like an idiot.                                                                                                       
"Number to get called up to the counter," he responded with vocal cords marred with tar. 
"Oh, 264," I said trying to breath out of my mouth, rather than nose. 


While I waited for 264, more characters came into that place  than any given Disney movie. I sat there trying to figure out their story. If they'd get their license, if they'd get their license back, if they'd pass the eye test and get their license revoked. 


NOTE: If you live in east central Indiana, be leery of any old model white Buick with a "Kitty" front license plate. The lady couldn't see the sun rising but she kept her right to drive, anyhow. 


Number 244 was called and I didn't know if I was going to make it through this new-plates experience. My eyes hurt, my head hurt, my cell phone was running low on battery. I was at a really bad place in my life. 


So I did what any normal person, in a scary place with way too much time on their hands, would do. I texted my Momma my living will.....


"If I don't survive this visit to the BMV, please keep this for your records:


My Will:
Momma: To her I will all of my jewelry. Turquoise belts included. She did, after all, buy most of it for me as "Surprise!" gifts when I lived in Washington, DC. 
Dad: To him I will all of the Hampton Inn soaps, shampoos and conditioners at my house; there is a rubbermaid container half-full in my basement. Dad can also have anything else no one wants at Jean's Boots Headquarters - cheap pens, free yard sticks and that huge ball of twine I swore I was going to weave in to something spectacular in my spare time. Those things are free - so he sees value in them - and he'll ask if he can have two. 
Laura: To her I will all of my old prom and AXO formal dresses. I hope they bring as much misery to her already-full closet as they did mine. 
Scott: To him I will my entire CD collection. Enjoy the vintage Garth and Ricky Van Shelton albums ("HEADLINE: Ricky has retired from Touring" - really?? I thought that happened when Tim McGraw hit the scene 1993...). Only Scott can enjoy music from artists no one else can recognize. 
Luke: To him I will Dixie. She will teach him patience. And how to chew with his mouth closed. And to check under his bed for unidentified objects before bed. And to always, ALWAYS, put his boots in a closed closet. I also will to Luke my sense of humor. His is lacking....
Betsy: To her I will nothing. I'd give her something, but I'm legitimately afraid she would give it to the trash man the next time she cleans out the garage. 
Marlee and Harrison: To them I will all of my boots. Marlee gets the gal boots with a history and many miles, Harrison gets the male boots with a story to tell. These are a part of their past. 
Katie: To her I will my travel journal. Use it wisely. Meaning I wouldn't publish until you're long gone, too. 
Lindsey Stuffel (<- click on that link!): To her I will my favorite gel pen and that leather bound journal I have yet to begin writing in. It's on the book case in my office, second shelf. Only she can appreciate good ink and a book waiting to be written. I've only encouraged her to write a book for 3-ish years....Also, give her those fancy imported beers under my sink I never had an occasion to drink. 
Kathie Truitt: To her I will my quarter-written book. I think she is the only one who could finish with my writing style and understand the simplicity of my thoughts. For more stories, reference Katie who has my travel journal. But it will need much editing...
Audreyalice: To her I will my Spanx. Beacause....well, they're expensive, incredibly useful and you can never own enough. You're welcome. 
Em, Alli, Chey and Laramie: To them I will the Lil Louis gift certificate hanging on my fridge. Use it wisely..........."


"Ain't your number 264?" the booze-cruiser asked.
"Huh?" I woke up from my write-a-book-text to Momma. 
"They just hollered for 264," he told me. 


I tossed my phone into my purse and charged to the counter. There wasn't a geriatric in this place that was going to steal my spot in line. 


Honestly, it only took me 15 minutes at the counter-of-death to get my new plates ready to go. As I walked out to my car, I checked my phone. One new text from Momma, and it was only one word:


Momma: BLOG!!


Well done, Linda. Well done.