The Early Bird Gets the Parking Spot

A church just across the street from my building offers parking for $5 per day. I have wasted about, oh, $135 this month racking up parking tickets, and I figure that despite the fact that $5/day is OUTRAGEOUS, it still manages to save me money. This is only temporary, you understand. See, this is my ultimate plan: Park along the street close to my building in a 2-hour public slot from 7-10 AM (when the ticket ninjas emerge), move the car to my allotted Divine Spot of Parking during my morning break and walk back to my building.

My lovely Redhead did bring up a valid solution: Why don't I simply walk the 1.25 miles to work as I've done in the past? Answer: The bedamned formal dress code. 1.25 miles is nothing to walk. Unless you're tottering in required heels, hose and suit. In the frigid rain, or under the blazing summer sun, it's just no fun (fun fun fun fun - hey, I just had to keep some semblance of meter!). I could don some tennis shoes and roll up my slacks (actually, I have to pin them, since most of them are synthetic blends and tend to be slippery fabrics), but I dunno how I feel about a pencil skirt with sneakers over hosiery. I don't own a single pair of slacks that are short enough to wear with flats. I used to stroll to and from work every day in Rainbows and linen capris.

It all depends on the weather. A cool spring morning would be perfect, or a mild fall afternoon. But weather warmer than 80, colder than 50 or wetter than sunny... Urgh. And regardless of temperature, humidity, or holiness, my abominably fine, straight hair inevitably goes flat. Curse my vanity!

Parking and Bikram seem to be the themes of the week. I went to Bikram last night and managed to really focus and get into some deep stretches. To be honest, I am more fit than most and my tolerance for physical discomfort is high. After the experience I had Monday, I roll my eyes when I see first-time, willowy, fad-prone 18-year-old girls breeze into the studio with their hair curled, clad in jewelry, brand-new hot pink capri/halter combos and dainty jeweled sweatbands. They - bless their industrious and devoted little souls! - even had their moms go out and purchase them coordinating Sigg waterbottles! We had a whole crop of them last night, swooning and complaining - but even veterans were falling out, as it was uncommonly warm (120 degrees at times) and very humid. I really shouldn't be so cynical as I'm new to Bikram myself; I guess we all have to start somewhere. At least I wasn't wearing a string of pearls when I started. And I never complain, as a rule. Ever. Bad form, Peter, bad form!