One of the primary drawbacks of motherhood, particularly mothering a large number of people, is keeping some sort of order to the vast amount of information coming in. I, myself, do this very poorly. I have little piles and big piles and part way piles and totally disordered piles. I have bags and boxes of somewhat but not quite ordered stuff.
Last week Joe bought tags for two of our vehicles. After he got home, he got a call from the gal in Fosston who had sold him the tags. She reported that in the process of finishing up our paperwork, she discovered that we had already purchased tags for one of the vehicles. Shoot!
Ms Motor Vehicles said that she could temporarily hold the transaction and if we found the previously purchased tags could refund our money. Otherwise, she could run the transaction as a set of duplicate tags which would cost a portion of the full amount and she could refund most of our money.
Well, money being money, we decided to at least make an attempt at finding the tags. I had a vague memory of purchasing the tags. But I had no memory of doing anything with them. Shoot! I had recently re-sorted the piles on my kitchen counter, in an attempt to find a recipe for Thanksgiving. So I didn't think they were there. But I went through those piles first since they were mostly ordered.
After that I did not know where to start. I tackled some heaps in and around my bedroom desk. Ugh! What a disaster! I made some headway and still no tags. I got what I thought was probably all the piles that I knew to have accumulated within the applicable time frame done. Still no tags. Grr!
Oh, well, I guess we call Ms Motor Vehicles in the morning and ask her refund the mere portion of our fee. We got busy the next morning, and unfortunately calling Ms Motor Vehicles did not enter the brain of either responsible party. Ms Motor Vehicles had warned us that she could not keep the tabs out indefinitely, and that in fact, she was kind of bending the rules to allow us this much time. Again, shoot!
Over the weekend, Joe discovered the tags we had been so earnestly seeking. "Where?" you might ask. Ah, there's the rub. I am ashamed to say they were in the first place we ought to have checked and never thought to check. Firmly adhered to the appropriate license plates.
Rejoice with me for I have found my car tabs!
First thing this morning, Joe called Ms Motor Vehicles and told her the lost was found. Alas, according to her regulations, she had already run the paperwork and after all our searching, we end up paying the portion of the original fee for duplicate tabs.
I am chagrined that my life is such chaos. We live lives of so much ease and luxury. I picture my Grandparents Hinderer looking much like American Gothic. They lived very tough lives. They worked hard from sun up until sun down. Even in their later years, the years of their lives that I remember, they rarely smiled. They are part of the generation of Americans I think of as the Somber Generation.
I can't ever imagine them losing vehicle tabs. They were very proper and orderly and they held themselves to very high standards. I said one to my Mom, when discussing the idea of running late, "I'm sure even Grandma and Grandpa Hinderer were late now and then." Mom replied, "Never. Grandpa would not have allowed it."
That was, for me, just a glimpse into a kind of attitude that is entirely foreign to us today. "Grandpa would never had allowed it." It is hard for me to imagine. Did he take her out back to the woodshed for a good whooping? Did he not speak to her? What was the end result of his not allowing it?
I am sure I would be an abject failure in the eyes of my Grandpa Hinderer. He would never had allowed heaps and piles and disorder and he would certainly, I'm sure, never had allowed a dingbat wife to lose motor vehicle tabs directly on the vehicle for which they were purchased.