Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Parkers
My downstairs neighbor is a bad parker. She is such a bad parker that, in fact, we have taken to referring to her as "The Bad Parker." Better I suppose than having to nickname your neighbor "The Smelly Cooker" or "The Inconsiderate Nudist."
But in a driveway with a regular stock of five cars that regularly grows to seven or more on the weekends, not observing the standard two or so foot distance between cars creates a bit of a logjam. Her distances are awkwardly long enough for a Cub Scout to lay down in.
Most aggravating is when one is forced to park beside The Bad Parker and then she leaves. It then appears that you hold the title.
The Bad Parker is a nice lady. She is an older nurse who decorates her door (and the inside of her car) for every upcoming holiday. The fact that she drives a VW bug inexplicably decked out with surf shop seat covers is endearing but no less irritating. Only if she drove a Mini Cooper could her space-hogging be more nose-thumbing.
But in a driveway with a regular stock of five cars that regularly grows to seven or more on the weekends, not observing the standard two or so foot distance between cars creates a bit of a logjam. Her distances are awkwardly long enough for a Cub Scout to lay down in.
Most aggravating is when one is forced to park beside The Bad Parker and then she leaves. It then appears that you hold the title.
The Bad Parker is a nice lady. She is an older nurse who decorates her door (and the inside of her car) for every upcoming holiday. The fact that she drives a VW bug inexplicably decked out with surf shop seat covers is endearing but no less irritating. Only if she drove a Mini Cooper could her space-hogging be more nose-thumbing.
Good Parker.
Bad Parker.
¶ 9:53 PM
