About two weeks ago, Inspector Climate and I, fresh from our angst after hearing from my lawyer, realised that how we pictured the time line of our relationship might in fact be very different from the realities with which we are faced. We started pondering that maybe we should just go ahead and get engaged.
Inspector Climate said he needed to think about it. Which let's be honest - is TOTALLY reasonable. You see, he had always thought that he would propose on our 3rd anniversary (October 2012). So, feeling like I was being a pushy bitch, I told him that when and if (and only when or if) he was ready, to just ask me and I would stop bringing it up and stop agonising over The Process that is immigrating and just got on with you know, actually immigrating.
One of the things that I have to do is get my fingerprints taken to be sent to the FBI. So I called a few police stations in my 'hood and asked if they had the facilities to go about doing such a thing. And these police stations directed me to a "centralised booking system" which now deals with all non-criminal fingerprint bookings. Bear in mind that this part of the visa process was most important to get done quickly because it was going to take the longest, so I called in and they said the earliest appointment they had was in November. NOVEMBER. But they said, don't you fret none because LOTS of police stations will do it for you if you just call and ask (HAHAHAHA, you're funny centralised booking system).
I knew I'd be in Gippsland for my birthday, and I figured that a country town might be more laidback and more likely to ignore this centralised booking system nonsense. So I called a police station nearest to where The Climates live.
"Of course you can get your fingerprints done here! Just call before you drive down to make sure there hasn't been some crazy crime and there is an officer here" Officer 'I don't know what I am talking about' said!
Fantastic said I! See you on Saturday.
So, on Saturday, my birthday, I called this police station and asked if I could stop in and the guy was all "haven't you heard, we have moved to a centralised booking system and no longer do non-criminal fingerprints. But I can give you a number if you want?"
"Oh, but the guy at the centralised booking office said that police stations with the facilities to do fingerprints sometimes still do them... AND the officer I talked to a few days ago said that it was fine?"
"Oh yeah, no sorry, we can't - you should try a different station."
And so, I called 5 other police stations. Who all assured me that the centralised booking system was the way to go, or they didn't have the facilities but other police stations in the areas did. The 6th police station I called said, that he was pretty sure he could do it, he just had to wait until his superior returned and he'd give me a buzz back. I waited for an hour for his call, and was getting so frustrated...I tried a 7th a police station.
"Yeah, of course you can get your fingerprints done!"
"Yeah, no problem"
"Are you sure? Because there seems to be some confusion with centralised booking service ... "
"No, I am sure"
"Ok! I'll see you in an hour!"
So, Inspector Climate and I drove for an hour and some minutes to arrive at a police station. We parked out front, I was nearly clapping with glee and walked inside where the police officer came out and said "oh yeah, sorry, we can't actually do the fingerprints if they're non-criminal...you should try the main police station for the area [station #6 who never did call me back], and they should be able to do it."
And so we left said police station, sat in the car in the parking lot and I called that main area police station who assured me that the centralised booking system was what everyone used these days and that they were sorry they couldn't help me.
And as soon as I hung up, I cried. I cried big ugly tears with spit bubbles coming out of my mouth and snot shooting out of my nose in the most unlady like fashion. I wailed how unfair it is that each and every FUCKING step of this process has to be so hard. I was distraught, the frustration and the pain and the angst just all came pouring out.
Inspector Climate dutifully rubbed my back and told me it would be ok and I angrily said "It's not going to be ok! Stop saying it's going to be OK! Nothing is ok! This is too hard!"And more spit bubbles.
"I've been thinking...maybe we should get married" he said.
"You're just saying that to make me stop crying...you'll do anything to make me stop crying" I sobbed.
Because the truth is...I don't always say the right thing either.