Parking Garage Nuggets

Yesterday I cried looking for my car in the parking garage. Not bawled, mind you, but I did shed a tear. I walked away from my desk at 11:45 to go to an off-site meeting. By the time I got in my car, it was 12:15. You can do the math on your own and see how I could get frustrated looking for my car.

At first, I was on the wrong floor. And there's no easy way to get up and down floors. Then I got mad at myself for not writing down where I had parked. Then I walked. And walked. And walked. I was wearing unforgiving heels and gott dayum! my feet were killing me! I pressed the panic button, hoping that I was close enough to make my car honk--no luck. Then I started thinking I would be late to the meeting. Then I got madder at myself. Then I started thinking how I hate living like sardines and this miserable parking/working situation. Then I started wishing I lived somewhere else. Then I started missing Arkansas. Then I started missing my family and the people I love. Then I just felt lonely.

You can imagine my relief when I finally found my car. And so I attribute to my weakened condition the fact that I looked at the license plate of the vehicle next to me not with eye-rolling disdain, but with an exhausted sense of kinship and understanding:

What else could I say?

And--in case you're wondering--I made it to the meeting just fine and all was well.