The laundry is done on this end, and my back is killing me.
I didn’t park in my usual spot when I came back, but parked down by the mail boxes. I could park by Charlie’s but I’m afraid it would wake him and Cindy2 up when I backed out.
I just don’t understand Greg. I’m not going to make a big deal of it, though, because there isn’t enough time left here to worry about it.
By the time Ross parked on the other side of me I had to squeeze to get in the truck. Both he and Greg are parked right on the lines. They want room? They can have it.
It wouldn’t surprise me if a lot of people don’t have correct parking as their highest priority. DP is very picky about being perfectly centered, but since I park way away from everyone else, when possible, I don’t worry about it so much.
He’ll say, “There isn’t room for me to get out!” and I’ll say, “That’s funny, Tom just managed.”
There are six or seven vehicles parked across the street, now. With our four, movement is pretty constricted now. Sure would be nice if Bill would start hunting for an apartment ...