Somebody finked on us. I got a call from a not clearly identified party (at least, I missed it, but I tend to miss the first couple sentences of any conversation as my social brain warms up) asking if we had a white sable. I was ready to explain that no, just a couple of cats, when I belatedly understood this meant a car, not a pet.
The thing is that I've been parking on the street since the neighbors got back from Florida in the spring. (They let me park in their driveway last winter.) The voice on the phone warned me that this was a violation of The Rules, and was I aware of that? I denied knowledge, which was probably true. The voice generously allowed that this was possible, but it was Quite Important that cars not be parked on the street overnight because of emergency vehicles, a need so obvious I still can't figure it out.
The catch is that with the Jeep Something, the Toyota Something, my mother's car and my car there's not enough driveway space, and while cleaning the garage enough to fit two cars inside was a condition of my father getting his Jeep Something that goal hasn't quite been accomplished. (You can get one car in, though.) Although it seemed to me we might let things slide another eighteen months and just ignore them, my mother wanted action now. The neighbors were away the day so we couldn't ask them to use their driveway.
And that's why we attempted the feat of parking three cars side-by-side in the driveway. My father was very worried that I was going to crash my car into my mother's --- I was far enough to the side I wanted to pull back out and back in again --- or that I'd back into the planter in front of the garage, what with my stopping only five feet away from it. He also wanted me to guide him in backing in the Toyota, although not from behind the garage where I could easily be trapped in case I suddenly fell unconscious while my father had a heart attack and slumped forward on the gas pedal.
Happily we got in touch with the neighbors and they don't mind our using half the driveway, so we don't need to do this again ever. My father has insisted I park in our driveway, and leave the Toyota in the neighbor's, lest my ratty dozen-year-old car be associated with their house for some reason. I don't know; whatever makes him happy.
On a side note there's something deeply unsettling about a baseball postseason in which the Phillies, the Cubs, the Red Sox, the Brewers, and Tampa Bay are all playing. And where the White Sox have a fair shot at playing too. And don't get me started on the Los Angeles California Angels of Anaheim Azusa and Cu camonga.
Trivia: In the final 24 hours of the 56-hour artillery bombardment preceding the Allied capture of the Hindenberg Line on 29 September 1918, the British fired 945,052 shells. Source: The First World War, Hew Strachan.
Currently Reading: Whose What? Aaron's Beard to Zorn's Lemma, Dorothy Rose Blumberg.