Adam and I went to the court last week and got our marriage license. Yep, we are now licensed to wed.
It was actually a very simple process—much easier than I thought and far less paperwork than I had imagined. All we had to do was pay a fee (DUH) and sign a piece of paper that affirmed that we are not related and that we understand that STDs can be transmitted to unborn children. Further, if we’d like more information on STDs, we could contact the office of public health.
Then, our marriage license lady asked us to raise our right hands and swear that we have come here willingly and that all of our information was correct. Further, she said, “Do you understand that you could get chlamydia and die?” Adam said, “I do.”
This got me thinking about all of the other licenses that I have.
First, I have a driver’s license. Barely, though. My parents wouldn’t let me even take the test until I was 17, and still, I failed the first time around. But I made the guy give me my license anyway.
I also have a license to practice audiology in the state of Arizona (and in California). Basically, this license says that I can blow bubbles, cuddle babies, give out stickers, and blog all day.
Before I could get a license, I had to get a fancy diploma first. See?!
I definitely have a license to bear arms. (Honestly, didn’t you see this one coming from a mile away?)
I should have a license to be awesome, because being this awesome without documentation should be illegal.