At the Tag Commissioner's office,

transferring my tag to my new car, the woman at the desk was asking me a series of questions in a monotone cadence, not once stopping between them or looking up from her computer on which she was furiously typing.

When is your date of birth?
What is your Social Security number?
What is your address?
How will you be paying for this?
Is your hair naturally curly or did you use rollers this morning?
Will you be using your old license plate?
Do you have your driver's license with you?

For a brief few moments, before she started rattling on about how hers won't hold curl unless she uses a whole bottle of hairspray, and how she wishes hers were thicker, and how she could get a perm but she just doesn't want to do all that, and how she knows that everyone with thick curly hair wants it thin and straight, I thought that my day's choice of hairstyle was going down in the books.

Perhaps my next undertaking will be to keep track of the number of times I get asked that question within, say, one week. Should be interesting, as I'll be spending the holidays down in Florida with folks I don't know. Hmmm. Could be fun.