The last six months have been a not-so-excellent adventure into the immigration system of this nation, but now my fellow Americans, our long, national nightmare is over!
The husband received his new, improved and CORRECTED BIRTHDAY green card in the mail today. There was a collective release of breath and sphincters in our stairwell this morning when we discovered the nondescript UPS mailer in our box this morning.
Mr. A, being the anti-climactic gentleman that he is, simply stated, “Hey, I think this is my green card,” while I wrestled with our hopelessly tangled shag-of-a-dog at the base
of our disintegrating staircase.
I was expecting the ugly cry tears, or a gaudy yet patriotic envelope or a rousing rendition of “God Bless America,” by my re-established spouse … but alas.
Now we can start planning our trip to New Zealand. Now we can buy a house without additional hassle. Now we can finally destroy his old card, resplendent with a photo that made him look like a floppy-haired convict.
Want to relive this experience? I DON’T. But I feel like you, dear readers, are quite sadistic, so here you go:
Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go double check his card and pour myself a drink. HAPPY REAL BOY DAY, HONEY!