NEVER Go To The Department Of Motor Vehicle When You’re PMSing!

Two days…

Two different Motor Vehicle locations…

And two attempts at getting Kevin his road test for his drivers license.

I can’t even bring myself to relive day one and today’s visit was just a fiasco.

We had a 9 a.m. appointment and arrived early at the DMV.

Our visit required a copy of my registration and insurance so Kevin would be able to drive my car for the road test.

Simple enough.

I grabbed a copy of my registration and most current insurance card from the glove compartment (Where I have never in my life kept any gloves, just sayin…) and we headed inside past the droves of people waiting in a long line, in front of the building.

I could already feel my blood pressure going up.

It was at least 20 minutes before we were able to check in and make our presence known.

Eventually, a DMV employee asked for my registration and insurance card. I handed him the paperwork. He walked away and I sat as my paperwork was passed off to another employee, then to yet another.

We waited…

And waited.

Finally the original DMV employee, who I had handed the paperwork to, returned.

Mr. DMV: “Ma’am, your registration is expired.”

Me: “No, it isn’t. My registration is paid and current.”
Mr. DMV: “The registration that you gave has an expired date. I highlighted it for you.”

Me: “Well, I must have forgotten to put the new one in my car.”

Mr. DMV: “You know you’re supposed to have your current registration in your vehicle.”

Me: “Of course I know that, but life is busy and my registration IS current!”

Mr. DMV: “We’ll have to reschedule.”

Me: “Reschedule? What for? Why can’t you just check the status of my registration in your computer… I mean, this is the DMV!”

Mr. DMV: “You’ll have to stop talking when I’m talking.”

Me: “I’m not. This is just ridiculous!”

Mr. DMV turns to the two other men who hand handled my paperwork. “Did either of you check this registration in the computer?” He asks, as both men shake their head, no.

Finally, Mr. DMV hands my paperwork back to one of the men behind the counter.

The man fumbles at the computer keyboard.

“Her registration is valid!” He shouts over, so we can hear.

Me: “That’s what I told you.”

Mr. DMV: “You need to purchase a copy of the current registration. It’s twenty dollars.”

Me: “Fine.” I sputter, as I pull my check book out of my purse and write a twenty-dollar check. for a single printed copy of my registration.

I hand Kevin my car keys in preparation for him to take his road test.

And we wait…

And wait.

Mr. DMV approaches us and says, “This isn’t the correct copy of your insurance card.”

Me: “What do you mean this isn’t the correct copy of my insurance card? It’s the most recent one that I have! It just came in the mail!”

Mr. DMV: “This says August 2017, its July 2017. I need the card for July.”

Me: “I don’t have the card for July. I have had the same insurance company for five years and I have insurance! Obviously they wouldn’t send me the new insurance card if my insurance wasn’t current. It’s current, just like my registration is current!”

Mr. DMV: “We need the card for July or we’ll have to reschedule.”

Me: “Can I call my insurance company and have a copy of the July card faxed here?”

Mr. DMV: “We don’t accept faxes.”

Me: “Isn’t that accommodating? What if I go to the closest office store and get a faxed copy of my July insurance card and then come back?”

Mr. DMV: “You’d have to do it by your appointment time for the driving test.”


Mr. DMV: “Then you’ll have to reschedule.”

Me: “This is TOTALLY ridiculous and the reason I hate this place…”

“Ma, ma, ma, ma… let’s just leave.” Kevin interjects.

I apologized to Kevin and after thirty more minutes of waiting, he was called up to get his rescheduled date.

Kevin’s appointment for his driving test is September 22.

I just hope that I won’t be PMSing.

My Life, I Swear…







The Garbage Can Wars

It’s been three weeks.

Three straight weeks of my next door neighbor moving our trash cans from the side of my driveway adjacent to his property, and putting them at the apron of my driveway, right behind my car.

Everyday I move my trash cans back, slide both of his trash cans over to make room, and leave my trash cans to the left of my driveway next to the sewer.

When I return from work, I find my trash cans blocking the entrance to my driveway, get out of my car, slide both of his trash cans back over and move my trash cans back near the sewer.

The street we live on is narrow, hilly and woodsy which makes it feel more like a Vermont road than a street in Shelton, Connecticut. Parking is limited and I can’t put my trash cans to the right of my driveway because my landlord has had a vehicle parked there for over a year. (Another irritation)

To make matters worse, the Garbage Can Nazi next door thinks he owns the street in front of his house. He has gone as far as placing cement deck anchors on the road in front of his house so that no one can park there. Note: The road is public property, just for the record.

In case you aren’t familiar with what a cement deck anchor looks like, I’ve posted a photo below. Great way to add just the right touch of curb appeal to your home if you’re thinking of purchasing a few.

Image result for images of cement deck anchors

The Garbage Can Nazi has also taken the liberty of driving green metal stakes into the ground between our yard and his to mark a property line that he determined without consulting a surveyor. (Yet another beautiful upgrade to his home so feel free to swing by if you’re looking for some trendy new ideas)

I need all this stress like I need a hole in the head… yet, I have continued day after day, and week after week, to move my garbage cans out-of-the-way of my driveway only to find them moved back again.

This week was the final straw.

John had planted a patch of sunflowers in a rock garden on the left side of our drive way. Sunflowers are my favorite flower and I was so happy that they were growing so rapidly, each plant about a foot tall.

Image result for images of sunflowers

I was at work when John text me, “The Garbage Can Nazi weed wacked all of our sunflowers down… well, except for one.”

I was furious but I didn’t confront our neighbor about the sunflowers as the garbage can wars waged on…

I guess because I work nights and the Garbage Can Nazi works days, we have each continued to move the trash cans at off hours from each other’s schedule, leaving us no time to run into each other…

Until last night.

It was dark, maybe about 9:45 PM, as I carried the kitchen recycling bin out to the street, while wondering what it would be like if I had some teenagers who could perform this task for me… oh, wait, well, that’s another post entirely.

As I lifted the lid on the recycling bin, I heard a voice. When I lowered the lid, there he was standing before me in the pitch dark, the Garbage Can Nazi.

“I want to talk to you.” Bellowed the Garbage Can Nazi through a thick accent.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” I said, as I turned and headed up the driveway, fully intending to go directly back in the house.

“This is mine!” he yelled, “Mine, mine, mine! This is MY property!!”

I dropped the recycling bin, spun on my heel and approached him as quickly as my injured knee would allow.

“Please explain to me HOW I am infringing on YOUR property?” I questioned, “You cut down all of our flowers, sunflowers, which are my favorite flower. All except one!”

“You can come talk to me and ask me if you want to plant flowers.” He replied.

“Talk to you? These flowers are on OUR side!” I yelled as I touched the one remaining sunflower, pointing out its position well below the crooked green metal stake that he had driven into the ground.”

“I am a nice man.” he said.

“I am NOT going to ask your permission to plant flowers in my own yard! Furthermore, what kind of nice man moves a trash can behind a neighbor’s car so that they have to move it in order to get in or out of their own driveway?” I replied.

He stood, hands on hips, towering above me on the elevated ground that was his yard.

“This is my property. This is mine.” He reiterated.

“What are you, two years old?” I yelled. “Mine, mine mine! That isn’t how the world works… at least not my world! You act like the garbage can is taking up a space the you actually use! Like your wife and kids are sitting in lawn chairs next to the sewer on a daily basis! The street is public property! I am not wasting another minute on this argument because life is too short! My father died, my mother has cancer and I have a teenage boy that is in distress, not to mention I have an injured knee and you have me dragging heavy garbage cans out of the way so that I can get in and out of my own driveway…”

Suddenly and unexpectedly, I burst into tears. I’m not sure why, I’m generally not a crier but I think that this was about all I could take.

The Garbage Can Nazi raised both hands, open palm, in front of his chest, like I was holding him at gunpoint.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said as he slowly backed away and retreated into his house.

I don’t know if last night was the grand finale of the garbage can wars. I hope so, but only time will tell.

What I do know is this, life is too short to waste your time and energy on things that aren’t at all important in this world and I hope that starting today I’ll be able to smile at my neighbor and say hello.

Kindness, consideration, love and compassion are free to all who seek it, as is forgiveness.

And as far as I’m concerned, those are the only things that I want to call mine.









PMS, Mayhem & Menopause

It never fails…the 24 hours before I get my period is a roller coaster of emotions.

I’m moody.

I’m angry.

Sometimes I’m crying.

One night, I was discussing this with my female friends at work. We were all sharing stories and laughing at the things that have happened and the way that we have acted the night before we got our periods.

One of my friends recounted a story of arguing with her husband and running back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom, locking the respective doors each time.

Another said she would go on endlessly about how no one had any idea how much work she did.

Another described having her anger escalate so much that she was ready to move out of her home.

And yet another, labeled herself “The Crier”, stating, “Every month I just cry.”

What a mess!

What’s behind all of the monthly arguments that have ensued with our significant others and all of the irrational crying?

Why do we continue to do this to ourselves and the people that we love?

My friends and I surmised that it really feels beyond our ability to control all of the pre-period mayhem that each of us have caused on a monthly basis.

There has to be something to it, I thought.

So I did a little research.

On the 14th day of your menstrual cycle, there is a peak in estrogen. While there are lots of benefits to this spike in estrogen, one of the drawbacks is that it can amp up your anxiety and cause you to stress over both big and small issues.

And, if that isn’t bad enough, there’s more…

The final 6 days of your cycle: Estrogen and progesterone plunge

(Quoted from Hormonology)

“As estrogen plunges during this premenstrual week, it can trigger moodiness, sadness, irritability, muscle aches, insomnia, headaches, fatigue and a wide variety of other PMS-related symptoms. Not every woman suffers from premenstrual syndrome and symptoms can be milder or more severe from month to month often due to diet, stress, medications, exercise habits or your body’s personal sensitivity to hormones.”

Well, that explains it! Now I’m feeling just a little less insane and I hope that you are too if you can relate to me and my friends at work.

Now, If someone would figure out a way to add estrogen to wine, the world would certainly be a much better place.

Just Sayin.

Until then, we’ll all just have to continue to deal with the mayhem, significant others included…well, up until Menopause anyway…but that’s a whole other roller coaster.

At the end of the conversation with my girlfriends, one of my post-menopausal friends said, “God, I miss my period!”

“Are you serious?” I laughed, “After that conversation?”

“Yes.” She replied, “I miss laying on the couch in my pajamas, watching movies and not having to do anything or even make dinner. I do miss all of that.”

“Girl,” I said, “You don’t miss your period at all.”

“I don’t?” she asked.

I laughed, “No, you don’t. You just miss the excuse!”

“I never thought of it that way.” She said, “I think that you’re right!”

We all laughed.

Now if somebody would just get on making that estrogen infused wine…

Image result for images of estrogen wine

Cheers! 🙂

Erin Cooper Reed



Monday Got You Down? Try A Little Music!

Mondays are tough! I work long hours on the weekends and even though I have every intention of setting the world on fire on Monday, it usually doesn’t happen.

Throw in the Fairfield County weather forecast for today; cloudy with a chance of showers. If you’re feeling like pulling up the covers and staying in bed, know that you’re not alone.

In fact:

Statistically, 50% of employees are late for work on Monday morning. That’s staggering!

So what can you do to combat the Monday morning blues?

Play some music!

Listening to music improves your mood and boosts your immune system. It also helps to relieve stress, anxiety and depression.

So if you’re feeling like this today…

Then start your day off with one of the top ten motivational songs…

Feeling any better yet? I hope so!

Happy Monday!! Have a great and productive week.

Don’t let rainy days and Mondays get you down!

Much love,

Erin Cooper Reed

Your Lack of Planning is NOT My Emergency…Or Is It?

What is it about kids that makes everything from, “Mom I need socks!” to “Can you drive me to my game?…it starts in fifteen minutes…” a total emergency? If life isn’t stressful enough, add lack of planning and extreme urgency to equal one frazzled mom always chasing her tail. If you’re not quite sure what I’m saying then let me make it crystal clear…

On a Sunday night, I’m sporting some comfy pj’s while boiling water for a cup of tea when my son Rocky enters the kitchen.

“Mom, we have to go to Home Depot!” he announces.

I reply, “Home Depot? It’s twenty after eight and they close at nine. I’m in my pajamas. What could you possibly need at Home Depot at this time of night?”

“Some chicken fencing and wire cutters.” Rocky replies, matter-of-factly.

“For what?” I ask, not hiding my annoyance.

“The science fair. It’s tomorrow,” Rocky says.”Come on mom, we have to go before they close.”

“Why do you kids ALWAYS wait until the last-minute?” I begin to complain, “We had ALL day to do this!”

Now, if you’re a parent you know exactly how this story ends. Yes, I drove Rocky to Home Depot. Yes, chicken fencing and a decent pair of wire cutters are expensive. Yes, I stayed up half the night helping to construct a science fair project. Yes, Rocky did well in the science fair and got rave reviews. Yes, my tea was ice-cold. And yes, I was dead tired the next day at work.

I have had many last-minute trips to stores just before closing, to purchase poster boards to diagram the skeletal system and others to purchase foam balls to recreate the solar system. I am well aware that I have many more in my future, as well as many more sleepless nights ahead. At this point, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that it’s all part of being a parent.

All of that being said, I’m pretty sure that the cosmetic industry will never invent an anti-aging cream that will counter the fatigue my appearance has suffered living under this amount of pressure and daily stress…but if they do, I’m buying myself a case.