I always liked Charlie Brown’s expression of frustration.  ‘Argh!’ communicates so much.  I am having an ARRRGGGGHHHH!!!! moment.  Possibly a moment that requires even more than what can be expressed by a single Argh.

So here I am, on my birthday no less, attempting to get my son’s passport application in.  I filled out the form with all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed, I have his birth certificate, the appropriate photos, and all the necessary signatures.  I wander over to the passport office with my son in tow.  I am informed by one of the passport office employees that I need the long form of his birth certificate to prove his parentage.  Okay…  I am thinking that the passport is to prove that the holder of the passport is who they say they are, that is why you have the signature of a guarantor.  I have proof that says I am who I say I am, and I have proof that he is who he says he is.  I try to believe these processes are put in place for a reason (other than to frustrate the unwary and squeeze me for more money for  governmental coffers).  I am given the address of the website I am to access to get the long form on-line.  Home I go to attempt to accomplish this unforeseen hurtle.  All goes relatively well until I need another guarantor for the on-line form, but it can’t be any old respectable passport holding citizen that I have known for multiple years.  Nooo.  It has be someone with an approved career.  ARGH!  Lots of irritated cursing and a desire to stomp and throw things ensues.  This is one of those times where the sentences issuing out of my mouth start with, “All I wanted to do was…” whatever thing I was foolish enough to believe would be simple.  Of course the fact that I am applying for his passport with a deadline looming, and was not expecting a bump in the road that will add two weeks or more to the application process, adds length and volume to the argh.