Mediumly crazy behavior

Taking care of car-related things is one of my least favorite activities in the world. I’m particularly bad at all the forms and things you have to take care of and fill out and mail in to keep your car street-legal. It’s so boring and I always end up doing it late.

So when I got my new car in California, I was happy when they took care of all that unpleasant business at the dealership.  All I had to do was sign in a few places and everything was taken care of.  I just had to wait for my license plate to arrive. 

Seems normal enough, but it turned out to be nothing but. Because when the envelope finally arrived, I opened it up to find not one, but TWO identical license plates. 

I was immediately nervous. 

Why had they sent me two? In case one falls off? Was this some kind of trick?  I became sweaty as I pondered the possibilities.  This was clearly a mistake. I only have one car and I only need one plate. I wondered if I should just hold on to it. Maybe keep it in my closet or something until its mysterious purpose revealed itself.

But this idea sent me into an even greater panic. Because the only thing that makes me more nervous than the unexplained appearance of license plates is HOARDING. 

And I just knew this license plate that I DIDN’T NEED would be the gateway to my future hoard.  Soon I’d be keeping old boxes just in case and saving expired yogurt for a rainy day.  Moldy magazines? Don’t mind if I do. Just toss them in the corner next to my collection of broken baby furniture. And please don’t step on the dead cat. I'll be stuffing him later and don’t want you ruining the integrity of his fur.

My life was headed down a cluttered and depressing path. I needed to get rid of this thing. But I had to do it secretly because a) it was government property and more importantly, b) I didn’t want to have to explain the story to my roommates because they’d think I was weird (imagine that).

So I waited until late at night when everyone was asleep, wrapped the plate up in a plastic garbage bag, and snuck out into the darkness to dispose of it, taking care to wedge it near the back of the dumpster so no one could find it.

After a night of fitful sleep, I woke up relieved to find that the trash man has taken away the tawdry evidence. PROBLEM SOLVED. I could now move on with my life knowing that professional organizers would never show up at my door with cameras and GOT JUNK trucks and judgmentally held noses.

A month or so later I got a ticket.  Apparently I was supposed to put the second license plate on the front of the car.