(no subject)

In Washington they don't have just plain Departments of Motor Vehicles, oh no...they have Departments of Liscensing. That's where I spent the other half of my half day off of work, switching over my liscense before it expires in a month and a half.
I spent the morning at work watching the wait times on the website switch back and forth between 58 minutes and 1 hour 15 minutes, and I hoped and hoped it would go down. When I turned 16 I just waltzed right in there, handed them a slip from my driver's ed class, and toddled back out about 10 minutes later.
Not this time, though. This time I took my test just before they stopped testing for the day and stumbled back out about 15 minutes after they'd officially closed.
The picture looks like I'm a red-headed, angry, sleepy drug addict, so that's about right.
When I finally got called up for the first time I stood at the counter chatting with the dude who was typing in my info. He was from Florida also. A man walked up to the counter next to mine and began complaining loudly that he'd been waiting for a half an hour. I had, by this time, been waiting for an hour and a half, but not wanting to seem like a grump I laughed, hoping someone would ask how long -I- had been waiting. No one did, and so I just sort of stood there at the counter, laughing to myself.

I'm officially a townie now, and that's a little bit sad. It feels as though I've jumped off and that there's no turning back; I can no longer be a wimp and move home. Not that I would, because Florida is the suck, but you know...I like to keep my options open.

(no subject)

Something across the street from me was just on fire. I was lying in bed reading, not sleeping because I fell asleep on the couch this evening, and I realized that I was hearing an awful lot of sirens that were quitting being sirens somewhere very close to me. I walked out of my bedroom and onto the balcony, and the first thing I notice is all the red flashing lights. The second is the big plume of smoke.
Most of you don't know this, but ever since I was a very small child I've had an enormous and irrational fear of my house catching fire. Someone's trailer was always catching fire in the park I grew up in, but the day I watched the home across the street from me burn down with my very good friend the old guy asleep inside of it clinched the fear. My first instinct was to grab my shit and run, because at first glance it looked like it was coming from the radio station right behind my house.
But I believe it was the apartment building across the street from the radio station, in one of the far corners. The smoke was white by the time I got to the balcony and so I knew that they were almost done with it, and soon enough it went out. I'll check tomorrow morning when I catch the bus and see where it was.
But it scared me, and it's times like this that I don't feel old enough to be out on my own, like I need someone there to do all the hard stuff. I feel like an eight year old.

However, I did meet someone who lives next door, and I'm pretty sure his name is Ed. He came outside a little while after I did, and then ducked back through the doorway to retrieve his binoculars. He couldn't see any more than I could, but we chatted a bit until the smoke went away and I came back inside. These neighbors are the quiet ones, ones that threw no fireworks on the 4th...I'm not even sure they were here on the 4th. I've never thought these ones were murderers of any sort.

I forsee little sleep for the night ahead.