Thursday, June 12, 2014
The permanent one.
I have to admit that when the DMV clerk slid that piece of blue plastic over the counter for me, I hesitated before picking it up. I had been driving around for the last six months with the bright red temporary tucked into my purse pocket. Every time I took it out and hung it from the rear view mirror, I told myself, Well. This thing is only temporary. I don't need one of those blue permanent ones. Maybe in six months things will be different. Yeah. In six months I'll probably look back and be amazed that I needed to use handicapped parking at all. In six months....
I know. Denial. Delusion. De - just about anything that indicates a total refusal to face facts.
But the six months ticked away and before I knew it, they were gone. And, gee what a surprise! There had been no miraculous return to impeccable health. In all honesty, I wasn't really expecting it. I knew in my heart that it was time to face facts and just ask Dr. Young Guy to fill out the forms for the dumb stupid blue tag. So I did. And after pausing for just a second, I took that tag and slid it into my purse.
Time to just get on with life. Doesn't matter whether I have a red or a blue tag.