Argh! It’s getting to that time of year when my organisational abilities go flying out the window and I begin to resemble a stressed-out chicken on a mission to avoid having its head cut off. Basically, I start putting off essential tasks that I’d normally be quite diligent about. In their place, I begin to prioritise things like explaining to my son why he can’t glitter-bomb the front lawn, and coming up with excuses to get out of going to my in-laws’ house on Christmas Eve.
One of the many things I’ve been putting off is organising an RWC inspection for the hatchback we’re giving Cassie to celebrate her finally finishing that seemingly endless BA degree of hers. It’s a used car, and we’ve had to do a bit of work on it, but I reckon it’s good to go now. It’s just a matter of getting it out of the garage and over to the mechanic without Cass catching wind of it. I might have to wait til she’s in the city with her mates on the weekend, and not at home in Croydon.
I’ll line it up with my next trip into Ringwood. Roadworthy certificates are starting to appear in the slightly stressful dreams I’ve been having lately, which is clearly a sign that I need to cross this item off my neglected to-do list. We can’t get the car re-registered in Cass’s name until we have the RWC, which means we also can’t pick up the new number plates from VicRoads. Note to self: track down an auto service centre in Ringwood.
I hope she appreciates all the running around that’s gone into this gift, although I don’t expect that she will – 22 year-olds in south-east Melbourne tend to be pretty low in the department of understanding the hoop-jumping their parents go through on their behalf. Luckily, I’m high on the spirit of Christmas right now (if I wasn’t, I’d have been to the mechanic already rather than shopping for decorative marzipan balls).