On Thursdays, I teach flute lessons in another town.

Somehow, despite knowing what time I need to leave to be there on time, I never do. And I technically have maybe too many students for the time blocks and commute. Time is important, so I drive a little too fast down a certain interstate.

Except that's ok, because there's usually no one else there at that time of day.

Except today, because: of course.

I got pulled over, and I was going way too fast. Fast than I meant to be. Fast enough that I was embarrassed; I wasn't even going to object. I got out my license and my registration and was ready when the officer approached my door.

He did his little spiel, asked for the documents, and then turned and said, "Is this information correct?"

I stammered out, "Yes ... yes sir. Wait - no! My weight is wrong. The rest is right." He looked at me quizzically and I mimed chubby cheeks and then shrugged apologetically.


Ladies and gents, my ticket is significantly smaller than it should've been. And I officially have the world's worst most epic case of verbal diarrhea. And also adorably chubby cheeks.

Whoops.