Oh sure, ole Dante had a point about the circles of hell, but he completely whiffed on the circle of mail part of hell which is the antithesis of the circle of life. It’s where your life is not your own, and things your mother own or tax forms that have her address on them and need care and feeding or at least attention paid and possibly  be paid for can never be dealt with because her mail is almost always being forwarded from some place to some place else and all of that crucial sort of mail from the government can’ t be forwarded so she never gets it and you can’ t be you anymore and she can’t prove she is who she is or where she lives because she has now moved to another state and has residence somewhere else but doesn’t want most mail most of the time to go there and it’s all on the up-and-up, I swear, but you try telling that to the lady at the DMV.

In a related note, I wasn’t the daughter (on the most recent DMV trip) who struck out, but I have been that daughter before at another DMV.   I think the DMV deserves its own circle of hell. I also think that I messed up when I neglected to drink wine while I spent months shredding my father’s fascinating receipt collection. A missed opportunity that I will be sure to learn from whenever I start dealing with the loads of paper from the old parental house that was recently departed. If my hand is grasping a wine glass, it’s much less likely to wind up mangled in the shredder.

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