Competence

I've been pondering that concept a lot lately.

I've been trying to get a handle on everything in my life, especially since I've been signing up left and right for things like:

* carnival chair
* precinct chair
* next year's PTA treasurer
* coupon train conductor
* a new devotional
* coupon swap meeting host
* a new business
* my regular job

and a ton of things I've forgotten for the moment. Suffice it to say, I am going to be busy.

But this is good. One, it helps me with the smoking. I'm down to 7-8 cigarettes a day, from a high of about 38. Two, it keeps me from having to commit to other things I'm not up for, but more on that another time.

I've recently restarted FLYLady, and have kept the sink shiny and dish-free. I've started a control journal to let me know what has to be done each day. The house has been company-ready in minutes for weeks now, and getting better each day. It helped, all that decluttering I did. And I feel a little sad for a friend of mine who is having difficulty just getting through the day with everyone fed. She is just overwhelmed and can't stop contemplating the magnitude of the mess and start working on it. Sometimes I feel if she'd just stop thinking about it and decide to do ONE thing, she'd see it isn't insurmountable.

Yeah, me with the super competence over here.

Except I have apparently reached the end of my abilities. I cannot get this damned car registered.

Last year we promised the Bigun we'd match her savings to buy a car, and so in December my dad went out and bought one and put it in my name. It's a great car, and a great deal. Never mind that JJ and I weren't exactly planning on dishing out $4200 in cash right before Christmas, but hey, the girl has a car. And I have got to get a plan to pay my father back.

Now, one thing I was going to do is get a loan against the car. He paid cash, and so there's no lein anywhere. Except that the cost of borrowing the money and the additional insurance we'd have to take out would cost us over $350 a month. Hell, in a year I could just give him that. We're still paying on her braces, and we have an AC replacement that will have payments due soon, and the expected work bonuses JJ was counting on to get some of this handled have been moved back to June. If he gets them at all.

But anyway, before I could really borrow money on it, I'd need to have the title in my name. I called the tax office to ask exactly what I needed. They came back with a form number that I printed up and sent to my father. When he gets the seller to sign it, she complains, saying she already sent along a power of attorney for me to do this. Well, um, the tax office didn't want THAT, they wanted their damned form. So that comes back to me, and I go down to the tax office. With a credit card.

Can you see the words "DUMBASS" beginning to appear on my forehead?

Ha ha ha. The tax office takes cash, and checks. Dummy. So while there, I attempt to find out how much cash I'll need for the tax I'll need to pay, because there are three ways of calculating it.

Stupid. Everyone knows they can't figure that out until they enter my information in the system! What was I thinking?

So JJ secures some cash a few days later and I go back to get it done yesterday. I wait almost an hour to get up to the window and discover that I'm really an idiot. Apparently I'm so dumb I let the seller sign the title with an extra last name that is NOT on the title. Never mind I wasn't even THERE. So they give me a new form that the seller has to sign, stating she is SC and also SCC.

By this time the seller hates me and wants me dead. She hate me so good.

I fax that off to dad, who faxes it back once it's all signed. And then I'm off again this morning to the tax office. I wait yet another hour.

Moron.

Because they don't want a faxed signature! They want the stinking original!

Why, oh why, and how can I possibly manage a 2100 sq ft house, run several events, work a job and start a business and parent and coupon my bumpus off, and not get a single fricking car registered? Where's the disconnect? People do this every day! But apparently people like me just ATTEMPT to do this every day. Day after day. While the tax office security cams record everything and they play them back during coffee breaks to laugh at me all over again.

I ought to be able to get this ONE THING done. Then I can feel competent again. In the meantime, I don't think I'm even up to mopping the floor. I might break it.