Project 365, Days 1 & 2
Several of my friends are taking part in a blogging activity this year where you take a photo per day (from what I gather, that picture is supposed to represent your day somehow) and then blog about it. I like the idea and thought I’d give it a try, even if my camera and photography skills stink! Since I missed the first day I’ll get caught up…
I truly rested on January 1, man. Tracy and I hung out with friends (we dominated Scene It–the guys truly embarrassed the girls) and got home at 3AM…which mandated sleeping in, followed by scrounging for food, followed by a nap, followed by watching football in my flannel pants. The only time I left the house was a quick run to Wal-Mart.
Yes. I put on some jeans for that, but I was immediately back in the flannel pants upon return.
My passport expired. Since I need it for work (and a friend of mine recently couldn’t go on a concert adventure with Duran Duran–she’s president of their fan club–because she didn’t have hers. I’m not in those kinds of adventure circles, but, hey, you never know, right?) and I had some time, I figured I’d check that little chore off a to-do list.
First, run by Walgreen’s and get some photos. This will allow me to get rid of the old one in which I seriously resemble a drug lord.
Second, run by the post office. Fill out the required form. This is where it gets blurry.
See, there was a line waiting. Not a big one…but a line nonetheless. I’m wrapping up the paperwork and the lady says to step in her little office and it’s easier for her to do this than to wait for me to walk through each step in the process.
“Here. Fill this out with your address here and (pointing to an 18-point type address in Philadelphia) this address there.” She’d just handed me a Priority Mail sheet envelope.
While I was was doing that…”Hon, would you hand me those passport photos you brought? Thanks.” Tearing. Cutting. Stamping. Pulling.
“Got that done? Great. Now if you’ll just hand me your old passport…” Stamping. Folding.
“Thank you. Now, if you’ll just fill out that check for me, hon.”
I start writing the check. “Now, that’s seventy-five dollars. Make sure to pay to the order of the United States Department of State. You don’t have to spell out United States or Department. U.S. is fine and you can just abbreviate department. Oh, yeah. Would you do me a favor?”
I’m just writing as fast as I can.
“Make sure to put your entire date of birth in the memo line.”
I do that immediately.
I hand her the check.
Staple. Fold. Slide packet to my side of the desk.
“Now they’ll send you your old one back in one or two weeks. The new one should arrive in three to four weeks–
–would you just put these flat in that envelope for me?–
–and now you can just pull that tape off and fold it in there nice ‘n neat for me.”
Pull. Fold. Press.
“Great. Now, since you already had to wait in line I’ll make sure you get to the front. Mailing this off will be an additional $4.85. Just follow me over here.”
Embarrassed. Stare at floor to avoid contact with everybody who is already in the line. Follow her.
“Glad I could help you save $25 by doing it this way! Happy New Year, Sir!”
Mumble “Happy New Year to you.”
Pay the $4.85.
Swipe. Enter PIN. Take receipt.
As I sit here right now, I have no recollection of whether or not I wrote out “Seventy-Five and zero zero over one-hundred” or even signed it. It all happened so fast.
I just know that my date of birth is in the memo line.