At last, we have couches! We have finally replaced this:
with this:
We actually bought them a couple of weeks ago at a Labor Day sale, but they just got delivered on Tuesday. We’re super excited to have them, as they’re way more comfortable than the air mattress. 😀
I’ve had two items at the top of my to-do list for some time now: change my name with Social Security and get my CA driver license. Well, it took a while to get the official marriage certificate, and then I had to make sure I had a valid ID while we were flying to UT, so they got put off for a while, but I started on them last week.
So last Wednesday, I went down to the DMV. I was somewhat nervous about the written test I was going to have to take (yes, I know how to drive, but I struggle with remembering numbers and such, so I’m concerned about my ability to regurgitate things like following distances), but I needn’t have worried. After waiting for over an hour, I was informed that I couldn’t get a license in my new name until after I’d changed it at Social Security, even though I had my marriage certificate with me. Of course, I’d not been told this on my previous trips, but whatevs. As Kyle pointed out later, is was only my third visit, so I shouldn’t have reasonably expected to get my license.
Anyway, the lady offered to start on my temporary license, in my maiden name. There’d be no charge to get it finalized in my married name, and I figured sure, why not? In case you were wondering, this is where this post transforms from mildly annoyed venting to mind-blowing craziness. She’s typing away on her computer and pauses to look down at my application. “Are you sure this is your social security number?” “Ye-e-es.” She gives me a weird look, so I reach into my wallet and pull out my social security card and show it to her. She looks down at my birth certificate, declares, “Oh, that’s the problem,” and starts scribbling things out on my DL application. A little exasperated, I say, “What’s my problem?”
Apparently, my problem is that I was born in Puerto Rico. And now DMV Lady is rewriting my name as follows:
First Name: Jessica Holly
Middle Name: Olsen
Last Name: Johnson
For those who don’t know, my actual name is Jessica Holly Johnson. Olsen is my mother’s maiden name. Which has never been part of my name. Evar. And even on my crazy Puerto Rican birth certificate, it’s labeled as such: Mother’s Maiden Name. So I’m not sure why DMV Lady was so convinced that it needed to be part of my name. Well, except that she kept saying that she couldn’t find me in The System unless she put in Olsen. I don’t know which system this was. When I finally got to Social Security (more on that later), they didn’t show Olsen as part of my name, which makes perfect sense because the card I pulled out of my wallet to show her my number shows my name as Jessica Holly Johnson. But in The System, my name is Jessica Holly Olsen Johnson. So that’s what she wanted to put on my license. I tried explaining to her that that was not my name, and that that’s not what the birth certificate said, but that didn’t matter because that’s what The System said. [sigh] But she said it didn’t matter anyway, because I was going to change my name in any case. So I left, not getting a silly temporary license with not my name on it. Stupidstupidstupid.
My favorite part is that when I went home and called my mom to harass her (just in fun, y’know?) about how she’d lied to me all my life about my name and now I was having an identity crisis because my name was actually Olsen, she said and I quote: “I know. But only in Puerto Rico!” There may have been yelling at this point. Apparently, she had to fill out all sorts of paperwork with both her maiden and married names there. Go figure. Of course, none of this makes any sense at all, given that this is the third driver license I’ve applied for, and this has never been an issue. I’m almost 29 years old, for goodness’ sake. Kyle’s theory is that this is some Homeland Security database that got put together since the last time I applied for a license, and some flunky put the data in screwy. It’s a possibility, I guess. I certainly don’t have a better explanation.
The next task, then, was to get to Social Security and change my name. With a print-out of Google directions to a closer office in hand (my last attempt sent me into an apparent black hole, which caused obvious problems when I tried to re-cross the event horizon and come back home), I set out on Thursday, full of confidence that now that I had an official marriage certificate, this would be simple. Wrong! Though the lady helping me was very nice and she was able to confirm that Olsen was not part of my name according to Social Security (which actually makes me nervous; if theirs is not The System, how am I to get Olsen out of my name and off my driver license?), she couldn’t change my name. See, though my marriage certificate does have official seals and signatures, it doesn’t have a certificate number. Not, like, it’s blank; there’s isn’t even a place for one. Of course, it was 3 pm in CA, so it’s not like we could call anyone in Massachusetts and figure anything out. She asked if I had the marriage license, though, and I said yes. She said to come back on Monday (she wouldn’t be in on Friday), and she could use that number to process it.
I got home and told Kyle all about it, and he called me a liarface. Not about what had happened, but about having the marriage license. And he was absolutely right; we’d turned that in at the temple. Silly me. So I called the Belmont town clerk on Friday morning to ask them for advice; it was their marriage certificate, right? Surely they could help me out. Not so much; that was the only kind of certificate they issued, and they’d never had this problem before. Of course not. He did say that the social security office could call and talk to the actual town clerk on Monday, though, and gave me her contact info. Lovely.
So today I set out again for the SS office. SS Lady didn’t end up calling the town clerk, but she did call a SS office out near Boston. (The three-hour time difference between the two coasts really doesn’t make arranging things any more convenient!) That worker basically snorted at the “quirks” of small towns (I hadn’t realized Belmont was tiny or that they would be such a hassle; we just picked the town closest to the Boston temple!) and told her what she would have to do. So what’s happening now is that she’s submitted a request to have the certificate/marriage verified; somebody out there will have to go out to Belmont and make sure everything’s legit, then get back to her, so we can change my name. No idea how long this will take, either. All because Belmont doesn’t put numbers on their marriage certificates! Even Puerto Rico puts numbers on their birth certificates! Come on, people!!!
I wouldn’t mind the wait, except that my current driver license actually expires on my birthday. In less than a month. So I’ll give this a couple of weeks, but then I’ll have to go get that temporary license. With crazy not my name on it.
Okay, I’ve promised pictures of the apartment to some people. We’ve finally gotten mostly settled in, so here they are!
This is what you see when you walk in the front door:
Like our couch? Yeah yeah…we’re working on it. But the air mattress is filling in as a comfy way to watch TV. Just slightly to the right, we have this:
We’re actually rather proud of those photo collages. We spent a long time on them, and if you hate them…well, please don’t tell us. 😉 A bit further to the right of those pictures is a sliding door out onto our patio (I didn’t take a picture because it’s not very large or very pretty). And then you get back to the front door.
Continuing past the front door, we get the TV wall (so we’re now opposite the air mattress):
…the dining area…
…and the kitchen (which you may recognize from the popcorn fiasco). (The laundry room is through that door.)
The hallway we skipped led to the spare bedroom, which we’re using as an office…
…and the other hallway leads to the master bedroom.
So there’s actually a little bit more space in here than I managed to get in the picture, but it was difficult to get in, and I decided it wasn’t worth it since there isn’t a single bit of furniture in there other than the bed. Like the couch, a dresser and nightstands are on the list of things we’ve yet to purchase.
And, last but not least, the master bathroom:
For unknown reasons, this bathroom is smaller than the guest bathroom (that I didn’t get a picture of).
And that concludes our tour.
After weeks of waiting, it finally came!
So, I need an official, legal marriage certificate for all sorts of things, right? Like changing my name with Social Security and the DMV, for example. Well, I didn’t have one. UNTIL NOW!!! Apparently, we filed with one of the lamest towns around, and they don’t automatically send out this very important document. So after waiting for a couple of weeks, I called to see when it was going to arrive, only to be informed that I had to officially request one. And pay for it. Which meant I had to mail a request and a check.
Anyway, the certificate finally just arrived. Kyle kept asking what I would do if they responded with “Well, we don’t actually have any record of that marriage taking place…” but that didn’t happen, thankfully. Now I can get back to the really fun business of getting my name changed. Good times.
Well, Mike, you were right. That last post was tempting fate, apparently, ‘cuz about 6:30 on Monday night, the right side of my throat swelled up. A lot. We’re talking golf-ball size. I, of course, stayed completely calm. Riiiiiiiight. I think it was more like this:
I was in the living room, watching TV, and Kyle was in the office, on his computer. I don’t think my throat suddenly swelled up, but it suddenly became noticeable when it hurt to swallow the Cheez-Its I was munching on. “Kyle!” I yelled. “What?” “Something’s…wrong!” And with that, I raced into the bathroom to examine my neck in the mirror. Yep; very swollen on the outside, and it was becoming difficult to swallow. Commence major loss of composure. It should be noted that Kyle’s throat had been swollen for a day or two already, but I’d ordered him to keep it to himself, knowing full well that if I got a sore throat I’d freak. Apparently, the boy doesn’t follow orders well.
Well, remembering the standing orders from both my surgeons, we proceeded to try and get some medical care. Our new HMO (Kaiser Permanente) is a little weird, but we’ve really liked it so far. So we called the appointment/advice line, hoping to get some info on an Urgent Care facility. Apparently, Kaiser doesn’t do those, and this is lame. We were told that all the clinics were closed, so our only option was the ER. Also, the nurse was a jerk. I totally get that I sounded absolutely ridiculous, wanting to get in to see a doctor pronto for a swollen throat I’d had for 10 minutes with absolutely zero other symptoms. I really do. But I explained my situation to her and tried my very best to make her understand why this was serious; she just never got it, and she seemed very exasperated with me. Which, in the emotional state I was in, just hurt more. In any case, the ER seemed like overkill at that point, so we got an appointment for first thing Tuesday morning (my doctor wasn’t available all that day, so with another doctor), and we just figured that if we really needed to, we could always go to the ER whenever we wanted to.
After that, I wanted a priesthood blessing, so Kyle called one of our home teachers, Barry, who came right over. He and Kyle gave me a blessing that really helped calm me down a lot. Tuesday morning, Kyle went with me to the dr.’s office (my appt. was at 9), but had to leave before the dr. actually came in (he had a meeting at 10, and she didn’t come in until 10). I was glad he was able to sit with me, though, since it helped keep me from freaking out.
I had been concerned about explaining the severity of my situation to the dr., especially after my experience with the nurse on the phone, and since she was completely unfamiliar with my history. I needn’t have worried, though: she was very nice and understanding and didn’t act like I was some crazy person. (Perhaps it helped that she could see the huge, relatively fresh scars on my neck?) She said my right ear was a little swollen inside, so I probably just have a little bit of a cold, but she gave me some antibiotics just in case it’s bacterial. (She acknowledged that ordinarily she wouldn’t do that, but if it would help me feel better, she was fine with doing so.) And yes, I know there’s a large chance the antibiotics won’t have any effect at all. But as I know very well, it could be bacteria, and if it is, I’d just as soon get rid of it ASAP before it has a chance to develop any complications.
So I’m taking my antibiotics like a good girl. I don’t think there’s any change today, but at least it’s not any worse, eh? And I’m not too worried, really. If I think about it too hard, I start fretting, but then something else pops into my head and I get distracted and quit worrying. So that’s good. Hopefully, this will be better soon.