At work I park my car in a behemoth garage. On Wednesday morning I suppose I could have kept driving up levels, but I found a spot that looked big enough for my small-ish SUV. To my left was a Bronco parked unnecessarily close to the right-most bounds of his space. Whatever. I pulled into the spot, then corrected. I took care when I got out not to hit Scrooge's door. It was a tight squeeze. Yeah, I could have switched places, but I made it, you know?
Anyway, I'm going somewhere with this.
Here's what I had on my windshield when I returned to my car that night:
Dude, I'll say it - I was kinda pissed. Bronco, oblivious to his own miserly parking job, left an anonymous note, which meant that I wouldn't be able to share the obvious irony with him. I put the note in my passenger seat and drove home.
Last night, when I was cleaning out my car I picked up the note and noticed that it had another side to it.
And this is when I became really sorry I didn't get the chance to meet Bronco. Awesome. Bronco wrote me a citation! Like, filled it out an everything. I delighted in the idea that I annoyed the type of person who a) actually buys novelty notepads and then b) uses them in all seriousness. I wondered what other kinds of notepads were in his glove compartment.
Dear ____,
I hate you because:
[ ] You broke my heart in 7th grade.
[ ] I wanted that last cupcake. I never get the last cupcake.
[ ] Mom liked you more.
This morning I posted the citation on facebook because it seemed funny to me. I liked thinking about what kind of person Bronco could be. Turns out, uhh, like some of my yoga friends. It just keeps getting better.
***
*Jorge Luis Borges
P.S. I'm sick. That's why I'm blogging on Saturday night.
