It's a chore, updating my driver's license. I don't think I've ever done it promptly after a move, so why would this time be any different, hampered as I am by three small children?
The time had come. Ok, it had come and gone, but we *really* needed to do it and I was putting off getting city library cards until my license had my really real address on it. So we went. Two adults, one folder full of social security cards and birth certificates and proofs of residence, three children, a magnadoodle, and my finely-honed dread of beaurocratic errands.
Did you know that the DMV headquarters has a cafeteria? It's deserted in the afternoon, perfect for exploring. There's a wall filled with 100 years' worth of Virginia license plates. There's a bank of ancient pay phones (does anybody use them any more?). There are rows of chairs in the waiting area to run around. There are mysterious tickets with numbers that get called by a disembodied female voice and displayed on screens over the counters. There is a wall covered in crushed white quartz calling to you to touch it. There's a huge sun-filled plaza in front of the enormous, impressive building.
Even when the Social Security computer crashed before the teller could complete my husband's transaction, it was still pretty awesome. To the kids the whole thing was a total adventure. Which meant it was an adventure for me, too.