Ok, so maybe writing my thoughts right this minute will say more about my inner self than I should be sharing with the world (or just the few people that mistakingly stumble onto my blog), but I feel it’s neccessary.  I’m enjoying my morning, having a cup of quality coffee, writing a little, taking in the amazingly Jackson (no other description could possibly do justice to it) senses.

The parking situation at my Thursday morning hangout is less than cool.  The whole parking ‘lot’ is one-way, has weird angled parking places that are slightly wider than the chairs inside the restaurant.  At any rate, in an hour, there have been twelve (seriously, I’ve been counting) cars that have come in the wrong end of the lot, tried to do a 36-point u-turn, park awkwardly over both sets of lines somehow, and land their car doors on the vehicles around them.  Luckily I parked next to the handicapped parking place, so I’m safe… there’s a blue buffer zone there to protect my paint.

When I first noticed cars coming in the wrong way, I rolled my eyes and got slightly aggitated.  But after a dozen, I had to laugh.  And as I type this, a big SUV is trying to bully its way through the wrong way, manouver around many things and find its way into the buffer handicapped space.  The beauty of the whole process is that there are no handicapped tags… and the non-handicapped plate says ‘PERFCT1’.  Here’s a picture.  You can’t read the oh-so-true novelty plate in the photo, but maybe you’ve seen this sweet lady before.

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