The parking lot is full, like completely full. There are cars prowling. This is an ordinary grocery store on an ordinary Thursday night. There is no reason for this parking lot to be completely used up. The only other time I have ever seen Nob Hill’s parking lot begin to get full is during the after school pick up time when parents abuse the proximity of this parking lot to the high school kitty corner across the intersection. So. It is nearly the end of the school year, summer is upon us, just this morning the middle school kids we see almost every morning were celebrating that there is only a week left. For us it means an end to the morning rush of dropping off kids at the school only a block from our house, a reason for us to celebrate too. Evidently not yet in this parking lot. Some school event is going on. I give up my search for a parking spot, it’s not happening, and I am out of time for this. I will not be getting my groceries tonight, and I am actually kinda mad about it.
This madness, about being thwarted, it also surprises me. Normally I take almost everything in stride. This is one of those events on the other side of that “almost everything”. I had a schedule laid out, and on any other Thursday night, it would have worked just fine. So there is some time pressure, an expectation of the world’s behavior, and an unsatisfied need. Well, the world had other plans. That school had some event and all these parking spots were required, first come first served, buddy.
I floored it as I turned onto Santa Teresa and headed for home. A pointless gesture, maybe some steam was let off, but not a lot and not anything of any meaning. I was still tense and frustrated and itchy while I waited in the left turn lane. It’s not a sports car, my Subaru Outback station wagon, not one of the WRX models that pretends to be a racer. But that doesn’t mean it’s completely devoid of the juice, so when the light turned green, I gave it some extra as I turned onto Blossom, and then the steam let out and well, whatever. I’ll do something else for my nightcap meal tonight and it will be just fine.
jg
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I, too, have felt annoyed. Disappointed.
Thwarted, even.
by Random Acts of Chaos.
When I am operating at my best, I remind myself that I am not on the path I think I’m on. That some day - probably quite soon, at that - I will look back and go “Well god damn. If that didn’t happen, I never would have gotten this other amazingly cool and great thing.”
I have this mental image on the hard days, of me having a day at the gym. Rather than my normal set of weights, my personal trainer looks at me and says “I think you need this” and slides another pair of 45s onto the bar.
I remind myself that I am being asked to lift more than usual, and that it is for my growth and benefit.
A full Nob Hill parking lot feels more like one of those stretchy bands that the physical therapist gives you.
The green ones, too, not the red or black ones.
PS: Tried answering your “How many days are in a week?” with “between 6 and 8, exclusive” for your enjoyment, and now the webpage is telling me to roll my answer into a tube and stick it. Which I put in the same bucket as “some fucking school thing meant I didn’t get my fancy cheese tonight”.
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