As it turns out
moving within a city can be somewhat difficult.
This is how my day has gone thus far-
I double park outside my house,
pack my car with as many boxes as possible
and then drive the one mile to the new place, which usually takes about ten minutes if traffic isn't bad.
Once there, I double park again,
unload all of the boxes,
and then drive around for at least 20 minutes looking for a place to park so I can go in and unpack the boxes.
Repeat six or seven times.
Did I mention I usually have Harlow along for all of this?
He has separation problems, especially when he sees boxes.
So he sits on the couch and watches me load box after box,
and then when I'm down to the last one he jumps up as fast as possible and whines at the top of his lungs until he knows he gets to go.
I got a little smarter today and picked up a sign from the alderman that allowed me to block off the parking spot in front of our house.
I nailed it to the tree out front and its says "no parking 5/17 12 pm-8 pm.
So you can imagine my frustration when I came home from taking a load over and saw a pretty little Mercedes sitting right in front of MY SIGN.
I wanted to go Mrs. Doubtfire on that shit and rip that little Mercedes emblem right off the front.
But I didn't.
I'm not that classless.
I am however, classless enough to leave a pink post-it on the windshield.
I know, it's embarrassing.
Who leaves post-its on cars? That's so dumb.
Whatever, I was in a fury.
And I believe people are often at their worst when they are moving. and driving. and in an airport.
Or is that just me?
Anyway,
As I was unloading boxes from my car (which was now inconveniently across the street and down a ways)
I happend to see Mr. Mercedes walk outside.
And then I saw his cute little parents walking out behind him- whom he stopped to wait for and even open the door for his elderly mom...
Did I mention his mom was a nun and his dad was a priest?
Well, they weren't. But they might as well have been.
Ugh.
Now I was the asshole.
Maybe I'd been the asshole the whole time.
As they picked up the note to read it I wanted to crawl into my trunk.
I didn't wait to see their expressions,
instead I threw the boxes back in my car and bee lined around the corner.
Cardinal Rule #1-
If you're gonna leave a nasty note, you have to be man enough to own it.
Obviously, I wasn't.
Moral of the story-
don't leave rude post-its on cars.
I let my anger/frustration/exhaustion
get the best of me.
Wasn't the first time,
and unfortunately I know it won't be the last.
But I will work on it...
Emily Maynard would never have done something like that.
WWED...
