Every husband and Dad screws up, probably once a day at low points.
I couldn’t articulate that I wasn’t mad or disappointed. I don’t even think he did anything wrong.
The car got towed. He was devastated all day by the unexpected, pointless expense.
“It used to be white line here! Oh no, they changed it to red line!”
The way our rural-urban hybrid of a community handles vehicle ownership is akin to how my land of origin handles child-having. That is, “Oh, you better have one (or three), you useless harlots, or else! But also, shame on you for taking up any space with it anywhere ever. Suffer at every point! Expensively!”
“We couldn’t even get the car in this garage. It’s from back when cars were much smaller and our car wouldn’t fit. Also, it doesn’t have an elevator.”
“Oh, it would be nice to have a house on the ground floor,” I tried to spin positively.
There’s nowhere to park. We share common cause with denizens of various cities who must lament that they live in places where there’s never anywhere to park.
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