Dearest Rachel –
Our individual news feeds aside, honey, Daniel and I aren’t like the Bob Dylan of old; we aren’t “thinkin’ ’bout the gov’ment” twenty-four seven. At least I hope not; I can’t speak for Daniel, and I don’t know what he does or listens to while I’m across town, ‘working’ at my ‘office.’
But a day like yesterday had us dealing with one form or another of “the government” far more than we usually are, so we kind of have to be thinking about it, and how to deal with it.
***
The first and most significant of these interactions was the very reason I was staying home from ‘work,’ despite having a handful of more pressing tasks than usual to deal with there. While I still don’t have all the details – and given yesterday’s results, I may never get all of them – Daniel was a required to appear in court regarding the scrape he was in shortly after I got home from the cruise. As best as I’m aware, he was trying to change lanes, and didn’t check his blind spot sufficiently well. Neither he nor the other driver were injured, and the damage to either vehicle was minimal, but the police were involved, a citation was issued, and he was required to appear in court. So I decided to come along with him for moral support – as well as to make sure he had all the paperwork he ought to when he stood before the judge (as he hadn’t had the most recent documentation at the time the accident happened).
I’ve been in his shoes before, as you remember; there was that time, when I turned right after having looked left for traffic, only to crash into a cyclist crossing the street. Even as he picked himself up off the pavement, the cyclist was saying something to the effect of how he knew that could happen, but as the motorist, I was deemed to be responsible. it was a nerve-racking time, waiting for the court date; and so I suppose it to have been for Daniel. But now, the day was upon us.
I had fully expected to drive him there, and then on to a couple of errands (some of which involved the government as well, and which I’ll get to shortly), but he expressed a desire to walk to the courthouse this time around. I’m not sure why, but I wasn’t going to try to insist otherwise. Maybe he was trying to work off some nerves about the whole thing.
In any event, once we got to the entrance, we had to deal with the usual security checkpoint. He had to leave his water bottle behind, and was told to “leave it in the car,” which obviously wasn’t possible, “or hide it somewhere outside.” We set it just outside the door, in view of the security team, in hopes that, while they denied any responsibility for what might happen to it, their presence within eyeshot of it would preclude anyone else from taking it. Daniel was muttering about how he hoped it wouldn’t get stolen while we waited for his case to be adjudicated, otherwise he would be quite put out about it.
In a way, I think it left him with something to fixate on, rather than stewing too much about his case.
We arrived at the courtroom before ten o’clock; more than half an hour before his summons time. Apparently, traffic court is dealt with in dockets of an hour or so, followed by a 15-20 minute break (pardon me; “recess”). Since we were there early, we couldn’t even check in until the court went into recess, but once we did, we suddenly found ourselves about fifth or sixth in line to do so. Daniel was fretting about how long it would take before his case would come up, but I pointed out how many other cases would be coming up after his.
And in fact, it didn’t take very long. Yes, there were a few hearings where the defendant brought along a lawyer or an interpreter, and those were taken up first, but it actually wasn’t long before his name was called. And like with my own case, neither the other party nor the officer involved showed up, and without a witness, the village had no case to present, and as such, the charges were dismissed, and we were free to go. He didn’t even have to pay a fine; I’d had him bring his checkbook along just in case that might be something he would need, but no. Dismissed means dismissed; there wasn’t anything more that needed to be done.
***
After walking Daniel back to the house (he wanted to stay home and listen to this stream he’s been following every week since heaven knows when), I had to go out and deal with something that the state has been insisting I take care of for a few months. As of next month, I have to renew my license plate, but I couldn’t do that until I had my exhaust checked for air quality. So, while Daniel stayed home and listened to his podcast (and got changed out of his polo, and into his more customary T-shirt and hoodie), I had to drive a couple of towns over in order to get that taken care of. Fortunately, as always, everything came out clean, even though the car’s coming up on 150 thousand miles.
Once the attendant gave me a clean bill of health, he pointed out that I could pay for my registration and sticker right there and then if I so chose. I’d never done that before, but considering I was getting mail and email about making sure I’d updated my registration, I thought it might be a good idea.
I wasn’t surprised when they charged a service fee for the convenience of buying the sticker right then and there, but I was surprised at how much it was; next time around, I’ll probably just stick with the mail-in registration.
***
Finally, on a more national level, I had to come back and retrieve Daniel – after making plans to have lunch with him beforehand – so that we could finally cash and deposit several Treasury bonds purchased in his name. Some of them were literally birth day gifts; others were purchased either for Christmas or his first birthday. But in any case, all of them had matured by the end of last month, so there was no point in keeping them around the house. 
Letters to Rachel 