Has anyone seen my teeth?

Remember yesterday, when I still enjoyed life and was not beaten down by it?

So, I went out into that rainy-ass day to do all my car activities. I had a list from that annoying Marvin Gardens.

12:00: The car inspection place. It is at the top of my dreadful hill, with everything else interesting, in town. It's one of those cute old gas stations which is no longer a gas station. In fact, when Marvin told me where to get my car inspected, he said, "Go into town into that place that's no longer a gas station." So right there I knew.

All the real gas stations are on the busy street right on the edge of town. They all have gigantic food marts in them where one can buy boiled peanuts and surprisingly few Hostess products. (I promise I have never bought any treat from these food marts.) One of the fancy new gas stations has a neon sign that reads, "Clean bathrooms." Does this really bring people in who wouldn't come in otherwise? And really? Clean?

So I walk into the place, which has a tiny sign saying "car inspections." Advertising is not a priority here. Everybody just assumes everybody else knows where everything is, so there is little sign help.

It is like you'd expect the walk-in room of an old gas station to look. There are really, really cool old vending machines, a TV, a desk, and a huge notice:

We have found a set of teeth. Please ask us if you are missing
yours.

Other than that, the place is empty. I mean, there is literally no one there. Pretty soon, though, I see a man coming through the driving rain, holding a brown bag. This can only mean one thing: he went to the [insert town name here] Grill, the best restaurant on planet Earth.

"Did you go to the grill?" I asked him, holding open his own business's door.

"I sure did! Got me two barbecue sandwiches. Not supposed to eat 'em. Gonna eat 'em anyway," he said.

Loved him.

"I would eat there every day, if I could," I said.

"You wouldn't live many more days if you ate these barbecue sandwiches every day."

I stayed an hour, and we discussed his kids, his love life, grilling, his 1978 car that he loved, Las Vegas -- which he kept thinking I came from -- and why someone wouldn't notice their teeth were missing.

Somewhere in there, he put my car up on those rampy things and I think he blew the horn. Then he said my car passed inspection and charged me $9.

Now, look at all the time I have taken just telling you about the inspection. I still have the DMV, the license plate place that sells fruitcake and the world's hardest and most confusing secretarial job to get to. I will fill you in tomorrow, as my hands hurt from secretary-ing last night.