After much debate with myself, and a nap to muster the strength to do so, I decided to go to the gym tonight, and brave the second ice storm Boston has gotten in a week. I have let myself get a bit out of shape, while I shopped around for gyms and decided that walking to work was enough exercise. This theory worked in part, since I have to use my legs more than the average person does. Seriously, you should see these gams. Walking to work does not, however, keep away my handles of love or give my arms the strength to push myself off the ground in the inevitable fall I will for sure experience on one of my daily leg-commutes.
I did a workout. An easy one. I have gotten in and out of shape enough to know not to overdo it right away. That’s for the resolution crowd, who are currently clogging up the gym scene and hurting themselves enough to feel it’s okay to give up next week. I can’t wait as they drop off; their failure gives me the boost I need to do better than them.
As I looked for a parking spot, the rain had had time to freeze and make the roads slick and give a nice hard slippery shell to the snow already on the ground, like that chocolate shell for ice cream, but not delicious. The first two side streets were full, so I drove one further. This particular street features one of the many decently sized hills in my neighborhood. It also featured one remaining parking spot, so I went for it. But as my back tires got over the tiny snow pile at the back of the spot, I got stuck. I tried wiggling back and forth but could only move in reverse, aided by gravity and black ice, toward the truck behind me. Blerg!
I made enough noise that two guys came out to help. There is usually a shovel in my trunk that would be helpful in this situation. During the blizzard two weeks back, I loaned it to my friend and I haven’t asked for it back. Using my ice scraper to plow half the street, I cleared a path for my car. The two good Samaritans got me out of the ice, I thanked them, and drove off.
Still, I needed a spot. After a few trips around the block, I spotted one space left right by my apartment. Like Liz Lemon, I said to myself “I want to go to there.” Parking has been an issue since I moved to city and in the first week, had my car towed and received five parking tickets. I told the city to suck it and had three of them excused. After changing my address on my credit card bill and changing my car’s registration, I made the hike to City Hall to get an Allston/Brighton parking permit. On that day, they told me that the registry was down, so they couldn’t look up my information. Come back tomorrow. I left, defeated. Then I said, F that, called the registry, found it was back up, marched back into the dungeon that is City Hall and got my permit. Huzzah!
Armed with my permit, I refuse to park anywhere far or inconvenient. I’m too, what’s the word, good, for that. This spot was “pimp” and the reason it was still open was the two-foot snow bank taking up half the remaining area. But the spot, so sweet. Now I’ll just grab my shovel, and…BLERG! Luckily, my friend who borrowed the shovel lives on the next street. Unluckily, she is in New Jersey. I called her roommate…who did not answer.
I was going to have to move the two-foot snow pile with my two feet. My two feet, and a broken lamp. Using trash to find parking, now that’s resourceful. Kicking, rapid-fire like Billy Blanks, I broke down the pile, sending snow and ice flying into the darkness. I made like Johnny in The Karate Kid and swept the legs out from under the mini mountain. My tires smell like burning, I probably damaged some toes, I touched street trash- but I can see my car from my kitchen. Good night.