Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Traffic Lights have Christmas Cheer!

It would have been a tough day if you were a dust particle or a miscellaneous piece of tiny omgwhatthehellisthat on my floor, because if you were, you suffered from being severely devoured by my friend Purple Vacuum Cleaner. It clings to dust and yet adheres to...well, unfortunately, itself, which is muchly frustrating. Oh well.

It does also have another failing, which is that it doesn’t make for any quality segue opportunities into my taking the driving theory test.

Some low grade options included:

- “It sucked, but not as much as that one give way question”
- “Now I’m on the path to a set of wheels that doesn’t have a tubular attachment which collects everything it comes into contact with.”

...and my personal favourite:

- “It’s purple, but getting one question wrong made me blue.” <- that one’s also a LIE so uber craposity points go it it...well, a half lie.

So I’ll just plunge in. The actual adventures of Elizabeth’s Journey to Driving actually began last week, which involved a tram trip, West Wing DVDs, a Wikipedia t-shirt, and turning up seven minutes too late to Service SA.

They continue still.

Yesterday I went in, and was confronted by an unexpected kaleidoscope of feelings. Baffled frustration at the vast array of forms on offer. High level perplexedness at which service button I should press, and minor self damnation at getting one give way question wrong.

On the plus side, I did make a temporary fellow failer friend. This took me (though briefly) to alliterative heaven.

Ultimately there was passage. Second time’s a charm. However, phase 1 of the journey doesn’t end there. My severe lack of “proof of accommodation” ensures a third future voyage into the land of icanteventhinkofanamebecauseeverythingisratherthevague.

I can’t help but think it’s worth it however, if not purely to escape the “memories are made of this” experiences I keep getting on the tram, one such example, my being wedged between a wall and a woman with every possible nail filing utensil ever in her handbag, who proceeded to bring each one out one at a time and make the most appalling “squeak-scrratcha-SCRAWK!” noises, all to bring no visible change to her nails...

...bliss.