No doubt, the process of moving over state lines competes for the highest honors for creating more jobs and paperwork and therefore the felling of more trees than, say, the U.S. government.
I'm at the place where I want to hurt myself. Insurance companies (multiple, since I'm getting quotes), lawyers, title companies, realtors, abstracts, banks and county treasurers and recorders all want a piece of the action. For the upteenth time I've assured the asker that yes, it's true, Bruce and I share the same birthday and I did not misspeak. Over and over again, I assure agents that our 21-year-old student is not an ax murderer or cause for doubling the insurance premiums.
I realized the administrative nightmare was getting to me when Bruce called in last night and I wanted to play a version of the bad marriage game, "My Day was Worse than Your Day" or in my case, "My Life is Harder than Your Life." Haven't played that since I had small children who all decided to get a stomach virus and diarrhea on the same day. It's never a smart game to play and doesn't promote good communication, so I decided to suck it up and deal with this for another 5 days. I'll make it.
For now, I'll just recite drivers license numbers or SSN until I fall asleep.
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