I wasn't so quite lucky when I went up the street to the neighborhood Tom Thumb to get my new vehicle registration sticker. The clerk told me that I needed to go downtown and get new license plates this year because the plates on my car were seven years old. Damn! Another long line to stand in. When I finally got the new plates several hours later, they looked pretty flimsy. Evidently prisoners don't make license plates anymore. These looked like they were printed on tin foil at a local Kinkos store. I wish I could have just kept the old plates. It took me four years just to remember the number.
After wasting quite a few hours making my car legal again, I stopped by Aaron Brothers to pick up a framing order. The picture looks wonderful, but I have no idea where I am going to put it. All available wall space was used up years ago.
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