Whoopsies

My archnemesis and jerky ex-boyfriend, La Moustache, has returned recently from his quixotic, 15-month trip around the world. Congratulations on driving your gas-guzzling vehicle an astonishingly far distance, Moustache! How do I know this? No, not because I've been googling him or reading bad articles by him (thanks to the Sensitive Bostonian for bringing that one to my attention), but because I've been in touch with him quite a bit since his return to New York.

It turns out that that nagging feeling I had in the back of my mind that I should return my car's New York license plates to the DMV was correct. (Mental note: pay attention to nagging feelings.) Because the car was registered in Moustache's name, and because I stopped paying for my New York insurance but did not cancel my New York registration, they revoked Moustache's license and slapped him with some heavy fines, thinking he had a registered vehicle that he was driving uninsured. (How does this work in other states? Do you always have to "unregister" a car when you move? Seems like kind of a crazy system.)

While some might say this is karma for being a jerk, it actually feels less than satisfying to be furiously angry with someone and then be responsible for causing them a huge inconvenience and major expense. I've been working hard this week to right my wrong, Fed Exing the plates back, making up a bill of sale, and photographing documents. Still, I appreciate the irony that the man who is now notorious for driving around the world no longer has a valid license and can't even drive down the block in Brooklyn.

P.S. Tomorrow is the 6 month anniversary of my first date with Dreamy :) Time flies when you have a nice boyfriend.