This Is Not An Exit

I spent five minutes watching an old lady try to park her Buick in a single parking space.

All the while I kept saying—to no one except myself because it’s my office and fuck other people—“Bitch, I would fucking key the side of your car taking up half of that other parking space if my chair wasn’t so damn comfortable.”

I believe she saw my mouth move and the side-to-side motions my head was making to show my general disapproval for her inability to park and, while she might not have known this, for being a snowbird. I write this because as she was getting out of her car and looking at me through my window, she suddenly decided to get back into her car, back out of the space, and straighten out her parking mess.

After the show I looked at the stack of reports and papers cluttering up my inbox and fantasized about the guy who used to work at the Pei Wei across from my building blowing me under my desk.

Yes. My afternoon was productive.