Heigh-ho! It's off to work I go!
Until I can figure out who exactly reads this blog, all I have to say about work is, it's...fine. So, why do I arrive in my office (promptly, of course!) in such a grouchy mood? Aah. Well, behold the parking garage:
That's my car, the green Saab, blocking in...well, let's count.
Um, 16 other cars?
I would love to park in a spot that I could call my own. My dear one. "Good morning, Mary Ellen! I've been waiting just for you!" It wouldn't require me to guiltily block anybody. And it wouldn't allow any cheeky Hondas to block me in either.
I used to park in the Swedish Embassy garage, which was nothing but civilized. This new garage -- except for the delightful French valet who says, "Good morning, my beauty!" -- is so far down into the Earth that I think I've entered the outer ring of the Inferno. (The place where they put aggressive drivers and gals who do their makeup behind the wheel.) And the stairwell smells like El Salvadoran cheese -- the kind they call "a little soft and a little old."
It's enough to make me want to take public transportatation, but not quite...
That's my car, the green Saab, blocking in...well, let's count.
Um, 16 other cars?
I would love to park in a spot that I could call my own. My dear one. "Good morning, Mary Ellen! I've been waiting just for you!" It wouldn't require me to guiltily block anybody. And it wouldn't allow any cheeky Hondas to block me in either.
I used to park in the Swedish Embassy garage, which was nothing but civilized. This new garage -- except for the delightful French valet who says, "Good morning, my beauty!" -- is so far down into the Earth that I think I've entered the outer ring of the Inferno. (The place where they put aggressive drivers and gals who do their makeup behind the wheel.) And the stairwell smells like El Salvadoran cheese -- the kind they call "a little soft and a little old."
It's enough to make me want to take public transportatation, but not quite...
posted by Mary Ellen at
10:20 AM
4 Comments:
All you have to do is give them a $1 a day tip and they'll park it for you! I never step foot down there. And if you're a dame, they always jump you to the front of the queue at pickup time!
Cynthia, I think they jump you to the front of the queue because you're hot. I've been with other, uh, more matronly women, and we had to wait our turn.
I think it's because she drives a truck.
She's scary!
While the first theory is flattering, I'm sticking with the big scary fossil-fuel burnin' truck theory! ;-)
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