It's Official

In the last 5 years I've lived in 3 different states and have never had my drivers license and car registration match up.  My car has always been registered in Iowa (If the renewal is sent to your parents house then...well...anyway who wants to grow all the way up and actually have to pay for their car registration) but when I lived in Virginia I got a Virginia drivers license and when we moved to Minnesota I just kept what I had.  That was until a few weeks ago when I realized my Virginia drivers license was going to expire and I couldn't put off taking the drivers test anymore.
See in Minnesota you can't just show proof of residency like in Virginia to get a drivers license, they actually make you take a test.  So my procrastination got the best of me and I put it off until I couldn't put it off anymore.  Kim basically told me she was going to pull the lawyer card out and report me to the authorities if I didn't go before it expired, so I went.  I PASSED!  And everything was done.  Life was good again.
That is until Wednesday.  Wednesday is the day I realized that the tabs on my car were expiring.  Wednesday is the day I realized that I was 30 and a real life adult and couldn't ask or assume my parents would pay my car registration anymore.  Wednesday is the day shit got real.  I put on my 30 year old fat adult pants and called the DVS (sam hell does DVS stand for?) office.  They gave me all the info I needed and the rest was up to me.
I didn't allow myself to procrastinate (see I really am working on it) and went straight from work (instead of straight to the gym, but hey I can only work on one thing a day people).  It was really quite easy and before I knew it I was walking out with Minnesota license plates.
Tom was on call that night and after the garage door incident (another day another story) I decided I could put the damn plates on myself.  So I grabbed my pink flat screwdriver and floral star screwdriver and went to the garage.  The front plate was super easy to get off and on and I was feeling pretty confident I would get the project done before the timer on the oven went off to tell me my dinner was done.
Then I saw what the back plate had in store for me.  Let's just say the things holding the plate on were not screws.  They didn't have any holes to put the screwdriver in!  First I tried banging the things loose with the screwdrivers, didn't work.  Then I tried pulling them out with the back end of the hammer, didn't work.  So then, I was forced to crawl (yes crawl, because both cars were in the garage and there's not much room between my car and the work bench) all over Tom's work bench looking for something that might work.

*Side note: If you have seen our garage and know Tom just a little bit, you know how deadly this could have been for me.  Not deadly in a way that I might have fallen or that there is so much stuff piled up it could have crushed me.  Deadly in a way that if I didn't hang a wrench exactly in size order back on the right nail Tom would have killed me.*

 Finally I found something that looked like this:

It worked well enough that I was certain the back plate wouldn't fall off driving to work the next morning where I could ask our maintenance guy, Rick, to tighten it with the proper tool.
So now, if you see a black Acura with Minnesota plates don't be confused.  It really is me!