When the Cheshire emerges...

Some things just seem to be really difficult.

I had a hard day yesterday. I shouldn't blame Darwin, but I really feel that just sometimes there's such a thing as being too laidback. People slip up.

Then there's the whole having a Citroen thing. Yes, having a French car is an ongoing problem for me because living somewhere outside a major metropolitan city with it gets me puzzled looks and general confusion all round. All the time. And it's a frickin' hassle.

I thought I'd do the right thing and give up my NSW plates. Establish myself as a Territorian in licence and registration. Forever hold Australia's peace and the rest of it. It shouldn't have been that difficult. But it was.

They couldn't find my compliance plate in the inspection because the woman had never inspected a Citroen befrore (I'm not joking). Nothing against her at all, and to be fair it was hidden in the most stupid of places, but it just took forever. Then I had to replace my two front tyres. That was fine though, saw that coming. But an extra $250 out of my pocket.

Then I got my licence and switched my plates. Went to unscrew the front plate - and there's no holes for my new standard ones. So they're now on my dashboard. Can't drive my car though because I've effectively surrendered my insurance/CTP and NO ONE'S OPEN ON SATURDAY MORNINGS for me to get help with new insurance. At least in Dubbo I could actually go to NRMA if I needed to... ridiculous.

So I can't drive my car. Can't fix my plates until I can drive my car. Oh, and I also CAN'T DRINK if I wanted to drive anyway because there's some condition printed on my licence saying I'm allowed zero blood alcohol content. I've been on my full licence for five years. What the heck's that about? So I have to go back and get that fixed. And probably get a new photo, which sucks because I kind of like this one. Pain.

This weekend's the first time I've had two consecutive days off since before Christmas Day, and I'm just about transportless. Pain.