Every girl fantasizes about it. But if we can’t be Empress of the world, or even princess of a small country, at the least we want to rule our own world.
I want to be in control of Nicole-land. However, my self-serfs never seem to keep the business of my realm running smoothly. (Schizophrenic much?)
Here’s a typical example. On March 2nd, I was driving to the dentist to get fillings. (Yeah, it was going to be that kind of day.) I was already stomping my tiny Monarch Feet because I’d lost one of my kindles. I’d wanted to bring it with me because, being the busy Royal that I am, I can’t waste a single minute of my day. Running late, I’m driving a little bit over the speed limit when the miniature gas pump light on the dash beeps. The Imperial Limo (clunker) is about to run out of fuel. Could anything else go wrong?
Funny you should ask. I’m just about to believe I can make it to the gas station when lights (not miniature) appear in my rear view mirror. After dutifully pulling over, the patrolman politely asks for my license, registration and insurance. After examining my documentation, he casually asks if I’m aware my registration is expired?
Why yes, officer. Yes, We are.
As a matter of fact, after my dentist appointment, my Royal Self is on my way to the DMV to renew the tags on my vehicle. I got my vehicle inspected three days ago and received the official form proclaiming my car had passed. I then logged onto the DMV site to pay the fees. It declined to accept my renewal. Apparently, I had not yet paid my property taxes, for which I never received a bill. Yesterday I paid the taxes over the phone, and received a faxed copy of my receipt. However, the DMV site still would not allow me to renew my tags online. (Seemingly, it did not recognize Ourselves as Royalty).
I handed all my paperwork to the nice gentleman in uniform. He acquiesced to My Highness that this one time he would allow me to proceed without a ticket and a fine.
With that little Sovereign Hiccup out of the way I was now running very late, and I continued down the freeway toward the gas station. But (you guessed it) the Imperial Clunker didn’t make it, sputtering to a halt.
Two hours, three conversations with the tow company, and one more meeting with the gentleman-in-uniform later, I was again on my Majestic Way to the gas station. Then straight to the DMV to renew my tags (with a late fee).
Welcome to my Royal World.