This is likely the longest amount of consecutive time I have spent in front of a computer not owned by my employer in two months. I am not actually accomplishing much, just leisurely perusing the Internet. The last two months have been rather expensive with the move and whatnot, but has been far less financially painful than the last time we were in similar circumstances. I suppose if that is my metric, the last three years have been very well spent preparing for our mid-to-late twenties. I am staring into a new 23-inch display hooked to a new Mac mini, and can still sleep at night not worrying about a check bouncing. I know that I have been fortunate.
Tonight I was driving down Eastland Avenue and was caught in a parade of runners darting across streets and down the sidewalks. I called Samantha to ask what on earth could be going on, because it obviously was not the kind of road race where they block off the streets. "Probably a runner's club," she said. I muttered something about reflective tape and Darwin's theory of natural selection. When I finally got to our parking lot, I found a restaurant patron had taken our one assigned space -- my space. Samantha usually snags the one marked "compact" while I get the one with our apartment number painted on it.
I became frustrated. The tow-away signs went up a week or two ago, so this had become less of an issue lately. There were no other spots nearby, so I went back down the street and into the Kroger. Two goals: Coke and lottery tickets. Having grabbed both and weaving through the typical post-5 p.m. crowds, I drove back to our apartment. The car was still there. Still somewhat frustrated, I stuck a note on their window with the simple message of "[...] We will tow you." Well, at least we will try. Samantha had called the towing company before, only to learn that it typically took them several hours to get a truck out for a request such as ours after dark. I really fault the planners of this particular development more than the driver because "adequate parking" never made it on the list of amenities once the third restaurant opened. Still, the jerks from Robertson County should read the signs and not park in a numbered space.
My penmanship leaves much to be desired. I am tempted to fire up InDesign and Illustrator to have a more professional looking note to leave behind when it inevitably happens again.