Old Habits Die Hard

Today I drove to the Maine Department of Motor Vehicles to renew my driver's license. Wanting to avoid a wasted trip since the website instructions were confusing, I called ahead to find out exactly what documents were needed to complete the task. An earnest-sounding young man answered the phone and told me to bring the following: Birth certificate or passport, proof of insurance, existing driver's license and proof of residency (utility bill or mortgage statement).

I dutifully rounded up the required documents, which took some doing since I had to rummage through several wastebaskets to find the remnants of a paid utility bill, and off I went. When it was my turn I handed all my papers to the clerk, who said she only needed my driver's license. "No need to see those other things," she explained, waving them away.

This bummed me out so much that when I got home I polished off the peanut butter cookies my son made me for my birthday, despite promising myself that today would be the start of a diet. Such is the life of a reformed compulsive eater.