(here is a picture of the orange velvet couch, finally)
When you move to Illinois, you’re supposed to register your car and switch your license plates within 30 days of arriving in the state. I arrived here on January 16, 2011, and registered my car on July 18, 2012. No one really seemed to care*, as I think the Chicago police have more important things to be worrying about on a daily basis, like murder.
It’s very bizarre to me that I no longer have California license plates. I lived in the same house in California for my entire life. I went to college in California. Whenever I went home for summer break it was always just moving from one area of California to another. This past year and a half in Illinois has felt, if anything, more similar to being in college than it has to being at home. One woman at work didn’t even know my name after over a year together in the same office, but when I introduced myself a few weeks ago she immediately said, “Oh right, the girl with the California plates.”
I am so depressed about removing the plates from my car that I refuse to even consider cleaning them off, as if wiping away the dirt will somehow affect their integrity. I know, I am officially that person. This is the shoes all over again. Since creating a shrine to the plates might be considered creepy by some [who have clearly never LOVED anything], I’m looking for a crafty or otherwise creative and memorable way to say goodbye to the plates. Boyf suggested sending them down Lake Michigan on a flaming Viking funerary vessel. I could actually probably steal enough fireworks from our neighbors to do that.
*Update: They do care, and they issue fines. Really expensive fines.