Overheard, or famous last words
Posted February 1, 2010on:
The scene: in the car, dropping Left Coast Mama off and preparing to go in to pick up the Poptart:
Me: Oh, a meter.
Left Coast Mama: Oh that’s okay. They don’t monitor the meters at 6:15pm on a Sunday.
20 minutes later, I get back to the car, put the Poptart in and find this gift on my windshield:
(Click to embiggen if you like).
Edited to add: in no way am I blaming Left Coast Mama, who arranged for a group of us to go to High Tea at the Secret Garden, and whose husband, the ever-gentlemanly @AnthonyFloyd, took care of the Poptart for a couple of hours.
I just happen to have the worst parking luck ever. I almost always luck out and find a spot, but am prone to getting parking tickets. Like the time I parked (illegally) to dash into a bakery for 5 minutes, came back out and found a By-law officer writing me a ticket. I hopped in the car and drove off before they could say anything though. And then there was the time on Commercial Drive when the meter expired 10 minutes before I got there and I had a ticket. On a Sunday. At 5pm.
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