A prisoner to my parking space

I’m having Wheat Thins for supper again, because I can’t leave the apartment.

I live in the city now, where parking can be a nuisance at best, and a nightmare when it’s normal.

Get home from work after 6:00 pm, and it’s not unusual to spend 20-30 minutes circling Uptown hoping someone moves their car before anyone else spots the open space.

When I’m frustrated enough, there’s a pay lot right across the street, but I can’t tell you how much it pains me to spend $5.50 just so I can go home. I would have scoffed at the idea of having to pay to park overnight on a regular basis a year ago; now, I grudgingly accept it as an alternative to leaving my car a mile away and walking home.

So when I get a good spot, the car stays. I used to go out to eat because I was too lazy to do the dishes; now I happily do them so I can eat at home and not have to move my car from its precious prime space.  Want to go see a movie? Can’t take my car, I’d have to give up prime curb real estate. My willingness to take a CTA bus or the Red Line is directly proportional to where my car is parked, and what time of day I’d be returning.

It’s a horrible way to live, this city life.

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