A Trip to the Tax Office (and Other Adventures with the Prom Queen)

Yesterday I took the Prom Queen to get the window sticker for her car. She turned 90 last month (yes—ninety!) and had been beside herself for weeks because she lost the statement from the Tax/License Department. According to her, this meant she’d surely be arrested and shipped straight to Siberia for driving with an expired sticker. 😂

We all get like that sometimes, don’t we? There’s something small we need to take care of, but the more we think about it, the harder it becomes to just do it. After hearing about this lost paper for a couple of weeks—and despite already telling her how to handle it—I went outside yesterday and found her still fretting.

So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. “Let’s go,” I said, “we’re getting this done today.”

First stop: the emissions test. (That’s what replaced the old “inspection sticker” here in Texas.) I took her to the place I usually go, not far away but outside her usual circle of travel. They were short-staffed that day, and since patience has never been one of my strong suits, I had to get out once to gently remind them that their “fast service” wasn’t exactly living up to its name.

Next stop: the Tax Office—the land of titles, tags, and license plates. I’ve only been there a couple of times in my life, but I knew it was going to be a long wait. And boy, was it ever! Two and a half hours later, we were finally done.

About an hour in, my blood sugar started to dip, so I asked the attendant if I could sit down. There were plenty of chairs—about 30 or 40—but most were occupied by young, able-bodied folks who didn’t seem too eager to give up their seats. The attendant did ask one couple sitting near the disabled seating sign to move to other available seats and the Prom Queen and I got to sit for the rest of the wait. But that’s a rant for another day.

Here’s where it gets funny (and a little old-fashioned): I came prepared. I had my water bottle, wore comfy clothes, and most importantly—I brought a book. While waiting, I looked around and realized I was the only person in the room reading an actual, physical book. Everyone else was on their phones.

I always keep a book in my car for “emergencies” like this—doctor’s offices, long lines, unexpected waits. Sure, I listen to audiobooks and read articles on my computer, but there’s still nothing like holding a real book in your hands, one you chose because it sparked your curiosity. There’s a richness to printed pages that screens just can’t match.

It’s a bit like going to church on TV while lounging in your recliner versus sitting in a pew surrounded by stained glass and familiar hymns. You might get the message either way—but one experience feeds your soul, and enables that Sunday-after-church nap that is your reward for getting up and getting there.  😄 (I'll save the formal religion rant for another time.) 

Anyway, we survived the Great Sticker Crisis of 2025, and the Prom Queen can now drive guilt-free. Mission accomplished with the help of a Book.

More later ...