Yesterday’s kerfluffle at the DMV got me to thinking about identity. Mine, in particular. Because in the same sort of way I would imagine finding out you were born with a tail changes your idea of yourself just a little, finding out you’ve been going through life for the past three years oblivious to the fact that a simple traffic stop could land you in JAIL alters your perception of things juuuuuust a little.
(I totally kid. Finding out you were born with a tail would be much cooler and far less traumatic. Your kid couldn’t have ended up in DSS custody because of a tail.)
(I love that I have wonderful friends who point things out to me – like, OH HEY, if you’d been stopped with just you and Earl in the car, you know she’d have gone to DSS, RIGHT?)
(But I digress.)