One Rung Short Of Marrying A Woman And Adopting A Chinese Baby

It's kind of been one of those days-slash-weeks. Nothing has gone especially wrong, but nothing has gone particularly right. I think my body is still sorting itself out, and I don't feel totally normal. Work has presented a few unexpected challenges. Home life is dandy, but sometimes when Ish and I both have stressful weeks, we don't exactly make the most of coming home to each other. We just kind of veg out in our own world without much ado about anything.

I've been particularly moody today. In addition to not feeling "right" (physically or emotionally), my sister's wedding is in about a week, and I'm totally under-prepared for it. I have no doubt it will all go well, but I feel very un-useful and lame. Especially since I haven't finished unpacking my suitcase from when I went to Tahoe. IN JULY.

All of this is to say, mope mope mope blah blah blah, I drove home to my apartment today to find a car parked in front of my building's garage entrance. And this did not make me any happier.

In fact, I came into my apartment and called the number Google told me to, and now I have some Meter-Person (is "MeterMaid" un-PC?) coming to ticket or call in or whatever it is they do to cars that are illegally parked. Note: I'm supposed to be down there waiting for the Meter-WhosieWhatsit. I am instead writing this.

The truth is, there was a (street) parking place available directly in front of the dumb person blocking the garage entrance. So I am technically parked next to my building. Which means that, all in all, this isn't the greatest inconvenience for me.

Or rather, it wouldn't be. But because I'm me, all the way up to my apartment I was envisioning how angry I'd be if I came down to my parked car tomorrow and found it had been broken into. And then for the next several minutes, I ran through all the worst-case scenarios in my head, until I was convinced that if I didn't get the car towed and get my car safely parked in the garage, I would go downstairs tomorrow to find a band of homeless people smoking crack in my backseat, and using my front seats for firewood.

This is how it came to be that I have to go meet the PC-Meter-Attendant downstairs right now, to follow up on my phone call.

Especially because I did not know the street numbers for the alley behind my building, I did not know the make or model of the obstructing car ("it's red, though!"), and damn it. If I'm going to go through the effort of calling someone to my apartment to move an errant car, I'm going to do it right.

* * * * * *

I have returned.

While I waited for the MeterLady to arrive, I sat in my car and read a book, appreciative of the fact that this evening, there was only one homeless person outside my building. Tonight's lone sidewalk-sitting dude was very hippy-esque and kind of well dressed, and quite possibly a college professor. He was sitting cross-legged against a wall and had a backpack. I was trying to figure out if he was a nearby resident or homeless...until he pulled out a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag, and began sipping from it manically.

Definitely a professor.

Eventually the MeterLady did arrive. She took down some numbers and then asked me to open the garage door. I believe this was to prove that I am a resident and therefore calling with a real complaint, not just to be a bitch. (Uh, not just to be a COMPLETE bitch.)

I opened the garage door. She said I could go.

I do not know how long I am supposed to wait before seeing if the car is towed (so that I can safely-ish park my car), but here I am in my apartment again. Blogging this most uneventful story.

For the record? I didn't know this story would be so boring. I thought that I would go out and the MeterMaid would be some hot MeterDude and then I'd have an unfortunate flirting accident or something. I would be humiliated, and then I'd have a great story to tell you.

Instead, I give you:


If I were to try and make a real, actual point, I might say that WOW. I am climbing the San Francisco Rites of Passage ladder with alarming speed. Because Rookies? They have their cars towed (I had my car towed twice in the first four months I lived here). But the Experts? They have others' cars towed.

And then they blog about it.


  1. I have been having one of those days/weeks too. I need a glorified vacation somewhere where a hot guy will bring me all sorts of alcohol laden drinks. But alas, I'm stuck at home, in front of the computer. Not the ideal but your post made me laugh and that's a nice sound amongst the blahdeblah. :)

  2. Ah, the thought patterns of a blogger: being disappointed that nothing humiliating happened. I remembered when I used to be glad when things went smoothly. Now I think, "What am I supposed to write about now?"

  3. I think it is totally awesome you have venetian blinds for a garage door. That totally rocks! Is it hard to keep the homeless guy from pulling them apart and making a home in your garage? We have very pushy homeless people here in Texas and we have to have solid wooden doors.

  4. ROFL. That last bit about having other people's cars towed and blogging about it totally made me laugh.

    Umm, so you ARE writing a book right? A funny one? Maybe about a divorcee who finds love again or something?

    Because I really really want to read that book and if you haven't written it yet I will be sad. I read A LOT. Like really really a lot. And you have that Keyes-Kinsetta but still crazy original voice thing going on that I love.

    So go write a book. Please?

  5. yeh

    think I know that professor ...and that crack head. want some fire wood?

  6. so did it ever get towed?

    also ... they say in the theater world "bad dress rehearsal, good show." You should apply that thought to your sister's wedding. If the week leading up to it sucks, you know the day is going to just be awesome.

  7. Hehehehe, you amuse me greatly.

  8. I think that professor just parked there so he could get his drink on.

    Colt .45 works every time.

  9. I live in Oakland where parking is by comparison plentiful. Sometimes there isn't parking on my street so people have to park a block over, but big whoop.

    Since I bought my house 5 years ago, I've had to have about 8 cars towed from my driveway. I usually discover the cars when I come out of the house in the morning to leave for work.

    In Oakland one must wait for a police officer to arrive who then writes a ticket and calls the tow truck. You can't just call for a tow yourself. This is Oakland, people, Let's just say it's not their highest priority. So I have to call my boss with the lame excuse that I can't get out of my driveway. No, really!

    I used to have a boss who was all uptight about anyone being 30 seconds late to work and didn't believe any excuse given to him. (what a schmuck) So the first time it happened, I got the police officer's card. The officer had written on the back "had vech. towed from blocked driveway at 555 Main Street, 0800 hours" I gave the card to my boss as proof that my story was true so I wouldn't get "Written up" (yeah,I Had one of THOSE bosses).

    I am one of those people who is pretty much never late except on the rare occasion where, you know, a car is blocking my driveway and I don't call in sick. I'm one of those super reliable types.

    So colored me shocked when a few minutes later I hear the boss in his office actually CALLING the police officer to confirm my story!

    AS IF I had fake police officer business cards printed up for JUST such an occasion! Or just wrote it myself on the back of some business card I randomly had. Schmuck. What is this, high school??

    A side note: This guy was so hated that when he retired after 30 years -- NO ONE would throw him a party. If someone HAD thrown him a party, no one would have attended. Did I mention he was an asshat?

  10. LOL - Oh San Francisco. I miss that city so much.
    You are a crack up!

  11. Even your "boring" posts entertain me!

  12. I was walking down Cole St. in San Francisco once and a man in a Volvo rolled down his window and said, "Excuse me, miss? What do you do if you see a spaceman?" I shrugged and he smiled all goofy and yelled, "Park, man!"



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