I am currently sitting alone in a motel room in Texas trying very very hard not to think of the terrifying Texas motel scene in No Country For Old Men.
A year ago on this very day, my dad dropped me off at the DMV so I could try for a third time to pass my driving test. The first time, I hadn’t turned on what was allegedly a turn-only lane. The second time, I had knocked a cone coming out of my perfectly executed parallel park. On the morning of the third attempt, the roads were covered in three inches of cold mush and I decided that if I made it out alive to see the DMV guy circle the FAIL on my sheet, I would spend the rest of the day wallowing in the safety of my self-pity while watching the O.C.