Dad had held on to my social security card for many, many years, but some years ago when he was not dying but nor was he not so well, he gave it to me to be on the safe side, and I put it in a safe place. A very very safe place. A really incredibly safe place. I suppose you've guessed by now that I have no idea where it is.
To receive Dad's death benefits from the State Retirement System (not a huge amount, but equivalent to some months' rent), I have to send them a copy of my social security card. It seems silly, but there you are. I called them and they said no, it has to be the social security card. (It also ought to be capitalized, but there you go.)
So I set off to the Social Security office (See?) in the Strom Thurmond Federal Building downtown. Speaking of really safe places, the security was tight. I don't remember ever having to take my belt off before. They also wanted my passport. (Metal in the paper?)
When I got upstairs, I was gobsmacked by the number of people waiting. But the staff was very efficient and they made their way through our numbers quickly. I may have gotten vaulted over some of them due to only needing a replacement card. I had paid for more than an hour and a half on a street parking meeter and got out of there in a little under an hour. And I'll have my new card within two weeks. So not bad at all.
My can-do spirit has returned a bit (apparently) as has the sun (periodically). The two may be related to some degree, I don't know.
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