Last time I checked, I lived in a big, furnished apartment where some people go to end their lives.
But in the eyes of the District, I live no place.
I’m subleasing my apartment, which, in the eyes of the non-state, apparently means nothing. And, given that my city-owned utilities (electric and water) are included in my sublease agreement and are therefore not billed to me, I lack official evidence that I live here.
Which means no registration. No license plates. No tags. No city parking permits.
So I called the police.
‘Cause, see, the police station is where you go to get a temporary parking pass, which I got last week. Since then, two officers have courted me, half pulling me over before realizing that my temp pass is still valid/having mercy on my poor Colorado-plated car.
So after a trying time at the DMV and then the Social Security Administration, I called the police.
Me: So you guys gave me this parking pass last week, and I’ve been trying to get registered at the DMV and they won’t accept my sublease contract as proof of residence. My DC utilities are included in the contract, so I get no paper bills for those.
The Filth: Hmm. What’d they say?
Me: Well, actually they told me it was illegal to sublease in DC.
TF: What? Hang on.
[Puts me on hold]
TF: Subleasing is not illegal, ma’am.
Me: That’s great to hear. So how come my sublease contract was good enough for you to give me a parking pass and not for them? Because pretty soon you’re going to be pulling me over for expired tags and the whole nine. I’m just supposed to drive unregistered for three months until my sublease ends?
TF: Hmm. Uh, well… [gruffly] So what is it I can help you with?
TF: You could come in and get another visitor’s pass.
Me: Great. Thanks.
But you know, at least he offered something, even if it wasn’t a solution at all. When I asked the lady at the DMV how, if my lease wasn’t acceptable proof, I could possibly prove residency, she just shrugged and said, “Not my problem. Go get Social Security card.”
But even after dealing with the jerks at the DMV (one of them walked up to me while I was waiting in line, plucked my coffee from my hand and threw it in the trash), sitting at the SSA, and speaking with an officer, the final kick to the ovaries didn’t come until a few minutes ago.
Apparently it’s easier for actual homeless people to show proof of residency. Check it:
Um, where can I get a notary to validate my sh!t?! Also, what does that form even look like? “I herby declare that I’m homeless”? W. T. F.
I’m going back in there tomorrow morning POST-coffee and making some demands. I know their sign says ‘no profanity,’ but so far polite isn’t working for me in this town. Tomorrow they’re in for a surprise from this granola-eating, sailor-mouthed Colorado transplant.