Even at 32, with 14 years experience of being a supposed “adult”, there are still times when I’ve hit the limit for how much grown-up stuff I can handle at one time. These past couple weeks have taken me well beyond that limit.
It started when my car died. There’s always a trigger, isn’t there? One car dead means a) you have to buy a new car, b) you have to get rid of the old, now-dead car. But it’s not that easy, of course. Selling the old car means finding the title (which took me all of two minutes, go me with my awesome organizational skills for ONCE in my life) calling someone to come get it, negotiating a sale price, cancelling the toll tag, signing over the title, and removing said car from your insurance. That’s so many phone calls. I hate phone calls.
Then of course the new car requires a lot of the same things in reverse except it starts with loan paperwork. OMG whyyyyyyy so much paperwork? Then insurance, toll tag, getting a new higher-rated hitch put on so it can haul my trailer, blah blah blah. That right there is enough to explode anyone’s brain. So of course I had to take a childish moment to get a unicorn to hang from the new truck’s rear view mirror. Ah, Levity.
And then since the truck was officially purchased, it was time to get the trailer ready to go. I finally got it registered in my name, which was a hell of a process in itself. First I tried calling my county to ask what I needed, which involved a 35 minute hold time, a 10 minute conversation, an email, and a suggestion that I try to register it the county of the person I bought it from instead. No joke. Because my county is ridiculous and wanted me to do a thousand things which would have required an insane amount of time and money. Yeah no. So off I went, driving 1.5hrs to the seller’s county, since all they wanted from me was a bill of sale and plate number. Unfortunately I’m stupid and wrote down the wrong plate number, so I had to stand outside of the tax office and go through every single form of my social media trying to find a picture of the right plate. Instagram saved the day. Well, mostly… we had to guess a few times to get the first number.
Once the registration was done, the next thing was getting new tires put on the trailer. That required more phone calls, an appointment, and then a 30 minute wait in line regardless of the fact that I’d made an appointment. Then I got the USRider membership (yes, I caved). Then I had to buy the the actual hitch and ball (which took trial and error using barnmate’s hitches to figure out what I really needed), mats, silicone, WD-40, and all the other crap I needed to finish out the inside of the trailer. That part wasn’t so bad since no paperwork or communication with other humans was required. Communicating with humans is the worst.
Then came the last thing… having the trailer painted. Getting someone to call or email me back has proven to be a fun challenge. Or show up. Or be on time. Or just completely not leave me hanging in the wind. Or not quote me $1800 (that’s hilarious). This part is still a work in progress (we supposedly have an appointment tomorrow), but I’m kind of at the point where no shits are left to give. Spending 3 straight days working on Excel spreadsheets and charts at work hasn’t helped. Nor have my ridiculously awful attempts at trying to ride a decent 15 meter circle. I need a coloring book and some macaroni and cheese, STAT… adulting (and dressaging) is too hard.