Expensive Taste

This is the story of how I spent four hundred dollars on five salad plates.

Yes, I know the tag says $3.99 each. And actually, they were 50% off.

So how did they manage to cost me 200 times their value?

A minivan and a cop. That's how.

It all started Saturday morning. Gary was putting away the dishes* and declared that we were officially down to three salad plates. (We used to have eight, but then we got two dogs.)

Secretly this news made me ECSTATIC because it meant I had a legitimate excuse to go to the Arc. (It's kind of like Goodwill.)

I love the Arc. It is chock full of seemingly crappy things that are actually awesome DIY projects just waiting to be spray-painted gold and hung up in my living room. Gary and Sarah do not share my enthusiasm. They can't seem to get past the smell...of POTENTIAL! I can't help it if potential smells like the unholy spawn of mildewed curtains and attic dust.

Anyway, I spent several minutes searching through stacks on stacks on stacks of ugly dinnerware before finally laying eyes on these beauties. They were exactly what I had been looking for. My entire life.

I scooped them up in my arms and told them they were coming to live in a happy place where they would be loved and cherished forever. (Or at least until one of the dogs knocked them off the counter and they met their untimely death. Whichever.)

I could not WAIT to get home and show Gary what a good and frugal wife I was. Five new plates for TEN! DOLLARS! I'm not exactly known for being great with money so this felt like a real victory for me.

On my way home, there is a place on Uintah Street where the road goes down from two lanes to one. I'm not an aggressive driver by nature, so I usually get into the left lane much earlier than necessary so as to avoid the stress of trying to merge at the last second. Saturday was no exception...except that I got stuck behind a minivan who was waiting to turn left. One glance at the approaching line of cars in my rear view told me that if I didn't get out right that second, I'd be stranded there for all eternity.

I slammed on the gas and whipped around the minivan just in time. My windows were rolled up, but I swear I could feel the wind in my hair. I was on top of the world. I was WINNING. I was...being pulled over for going 45 in a 30.

And it just so happened my registration was out of date. As was the insurance card in my glove box.

I know I would have had to register my car regardless of whether or not I'd gotten the ticket, but I was just sort of putting it off until a day when I'd have three hundred extra dollars lying around. (Better make that four hundred to cover the court fee.)

Here's hoping that day comes before my court date on August 13th.

*He's just the best.