I refer of course to the Battle of the Parking Space.*
*The full story of which can be found Here, Here, Here, and Here. Also a brief followup here. No, not obsessive about it at all. No sir. Oh, and Here.
Sadly, one of the few negative results of my having traded in my sporty Mitsubishi Gallant* for a 2001 Ford F150 Pickup named Lucille is that I had to give up parking in my beloved parking spot, as there's no way in God's green Earth that I'd ever be able to fit Lucille between those two concrete pillars**.
*Said no one, ever
**She's a big girl
And so for the last three or four months I've been parking Lucille toward the back of the same level in the parking ramp, where there are usually more empty spaces, thus reducing my risk of accidentally running Lucille into things by forgetting how wide she is***.
***She's a big girl!
One fun knock-on effect of my in no way psychotic attempts to dissuade others from using my spot through the bewildering application of coinage is that still, with the spot having stood completely empty for over three months now, the driver of the gray sedan continues to park in a less convenient spot. I'm calling that a win. Also, I'm making a concerted effort to park Lucille in a different spot every single day in an effort to prevent myself from getting attached again- which is probably emotionally healthier.
That however is not the point of my story.
Every day, having parked Lucille**** in a spot toward the back of the parking ramp I walk through a lot of other vehicles to get to the elevator bay. And every day I pass a large black SUV with a bumper sticker on the back that reads 'I Skating'.
Now, I acknowledge that the most likely scenario is that it once said 'I "Heart" Skating', with a big red heart where the blank space now is. Red ink- for reasons best known by folks in the printing biz - tends to fade faster than black ink*, and so what probably happened is that the heart slowly faded until it was gone completely, leaving only the cold black shell indicating the space where it once was.**
*This is also true in the world of finance
**You know - like what happens to us all in our forties.
I, however, choose to believe that it always read just as it currently reads. 'I am here,' the owner of the black SUV announces to the world, 'And I have no discernible feelings about skating. Skate. Don't skate. Whatever. Don't make much of a shit to me.*'
*If I might quote my Great-Grandmother.
So what are we to make of all of this.
Personally, I like to think the whole thing boils down to one simple lesson:
Life's a Hell of a lot easier when you just don't give much of a crap.
Someone please cross stitch that onto a throw pillow.
|**** She's a big girl.|