My Poor Baby

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On Saturday night, D. and I were supposed to go to a party. I baked chocolate brownies with white chocolate chunks, and he made some incredible habanero-lime-caramel sauce to drizzle over them, with some ice cream.

Then disaster struck. While I was working in the studio in the early evening, someone broke the driver’s side window of my car and opened it up.

They stole the brownies.

They stole the sauce. They stole the nice pottery dishes I was going to serve them on, which was all in a bag together. They stole the clothes I was going to wear to the party, as well as my homework and notes for my InDesign class. For good measure, they cleaned my glove compartment of my insurance and registration cards.

Basically, they got nothing of any value to them, and several things that held value to me. Bummer. We wound up skipping the party, D. picked me up and we bought a club to put on the wheel of the car so it would be safe until Monday. My poor baby is now parked out by the curb with a plastic bag taped over the window, looking very South Philly.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, I spent over an hour and over $8 getting to work via public transportation this morning (since I wasn’t about to drive my window-less car). Then, after I was at work for about three hours, another reporter showed up (we only have one person work the Sunday morning shift) and asked me what I was doing there. I had been rescheduled to have a three-day weekend, and work next Saturday instead. DOH!! So I had woken up early and worked half my shift, and I wasn’t even supposed to be there.

Luckily, I was able to redeem my afternoon. One of my friends, after hearing my tale of woe, invited me over for an afternoon of sipping beers, watching Disney movies and ordering out for pizza. Thank god there is little that singing along to all the songs in The Little Mermaid won’t fix.

Now if only I could get Disney to fix my window as easily…

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Published in: on February 23, 2009 at 12:38 am  Comments (5)  

Car Adventures – Part I

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Have I mentioned how much I love my car?

I love driving down the highway. I love the fact that I can leave at any time, and go pretty much anywhere I want to. Even at times in my life when I was pretty down and didn’t feel like I had much to call my own, I treasured my car and the degree of freedom it afforded me when I needed it.

So you might imagine how I felt when I was walking to the pottery studio Saturday afternoon and my boyfriend pointed to a side street and said, “Hey, didn’t you park your car there last night? Where’d it go?”

“Hrmmm,” I said, after a long pause. “I did park it there. It appears to be gone.”

Luckily, a number of other cars also appeared gone from what is usually a pretty tightly packed space – a good sign that the Philadelphia Parking Authority had done one of its irregular sweeps, clearing out cars from the commonly ignored “no parking” blocks. And with the mayor confronting a budget crisis, it’s been worse than usual lately.

“Oh, yeah. We sure got your car,” said the cheerful tow lot  attendant when I called, before I had barely got past describing the color of the vehicle. “Picked that one up this morning!”

Two hours of standing in line, watching parking authority personnel try to fix a broken photocopier, and waiting in cold outside the gate later, and after paying $150 plus a normal parking ticket, I was reunited with my sweet little Honda. The parking authority had taken the liberty of writing several lines of ID numbers across the windshield in bold white paint, however.

“Can I wash that off with something?” I asked the attendant, as he opened the gate for me.

“Oho no, there’s no way to wash that off!” he laughed. “You’re going to need to scrape it off with a razor.”

Figures. But at least my car is back and business, and I’m free on the road again.

At least for now…. (part II tomorrow)

Published in: on January 6, 2009 at 11:12 pm  Comments (5)