I live in Boston. Parking here is a delicate dance. Even more so than those fancy steps at the end of Dirty Dancing. No one really knows how stressed out I get every time I come home from some errand, or day at work, knowing that I may find a spot right in front of my building, or that I may end up driving around for 15 minutes, and then find myself squeezing the vehicle into a very tenuous spot that may or may not be kinda too close to a fire hydrant. Tonight though, the parking god was smiling down on me.
I decided to hit the gym after work today, rather than at lunch, and ended up getting home a full hour later than normal. Usually, that would mean the sound of the deathwatch beetle, and after 30 minutes driving around, I would find myself slumped over the steering wheel, horn blaring mournfully, sobbing. But tonight, after a mere five minutes cruising the streets, a place opened up right in front of the building. Too cool.
No comments:
Post a Comment