I Feel Strongly About Ambivalence, and So Should You. Or Not. Whatever.

Longtime readers might remember last year's epic saga in which I engaged in a Wagnerian struggle against a mighty and evil foe for the very heart and soul of all that is good and evil.

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.

If you can't 'Avenge', shoot for 'Confuse'

So the battle for my long held and beloved parking spot goes on.

For anyone new to the discussion, you can get up to speed on the backstory here.

This morning I performed what is now my usual morning routine.  I woke up, thought, 'Oh, I can sleep another 15 minutes', then immediately thought, 'No I CAN NOT, MUST.  DESTROY.  GRAY.  SEDAN!'

I then leaped out of bed (which is to seriously risk pulling something at my age), threw on some clothes as fast as I could, and raced to the freeway.

Where I sat at a dead stop for over 10 minutes because apparently everyone is stupid and forgot that we live in Minnesota where things freeze from time to time and really we should stop all being surprised by that.

Needless to say, as I pulled into the parking ramp at 5 to 9, my spot was well and truly already occupied by the evil gray sedan who is currently the bane of my existence.

Damn you, gray sedan.  Damn you.

My options for vengeance were limited, no matter how my heart yearned for same. 

-I couldn't key them.  Outside of being bad karma, it would also be fairly obvious who had done it once I resumed parking in the spot.  Plus we're then looking at payback scenarios.

-Cutting their brake line - while eliminating the fear of them knowing who did it afterwards OR being around for payback, there's still the karma issue to consider.  Plus possible jail time.

-There was no immediately obvious option 3.

There I was, alone in the parking ramp with nothing but a swipe card and some spare change.  And so I did what anyone would do.

I left a dime on top of their car, in an area where I hoped it would be immediately spotted.

My line of thought ran more or less along these lines.  The driver of the Gray Sedan, upon returning to his/her vehicle would see the coin and be perplexed.  'Why is there a coin on my car?  Was someone throwing coins at my car? No, a quick review of the vehicle shows no sign of dents or scratches.  And yet this coin.  From whence came this coin??  A Pox upon you, shiny currency, for your mystery has like a dew from the brow of Jove fallen upon the brightness of my mind and rendered all but shadow!'

Yes, in my mind the driver of the car is a someone from one of Shakespeare's History plays.

Further, for every day the Gray Sedan defeats me and claims my spot, I'll put a further coin of random denomination on their roof.  Maybe a nickle.  Then a quarter.  Then a Pound.  Maybe a Lira (They don't even TAKE these anymore!).  Perhaps even a Chuck-E-Cheese token.  Just one bewildering unit of currency after another, until eventually the driver is driven mad by the inexplicability of the whole situation, and takes themselves to a nunnery.  Or perhaps Spain.  Either way.

I'm pretty sure that's how it's going to play out.  I'll keep you posted.