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Sheltering-in-Place: Day 56

A woman runs so fast that visual lines are being left behind her. The text on the image reads  Return of the parking dress! The street cleaner was coming. I overslept.

The text on the image reads

Return of the parking dress!
The street cleaner was coming. I overslept.

 

Street cleaning day! The city where I live is still not giving out parking tickets for street cleaning violations, but if I can move my car, I do. The last few days have seen a few more empty spots on the street off and on throughout the day. Some of our working restrictions loosened up. I'm making a wild guess that it's that. I missed my chance to move my car yesterday, so I tried to wake up in time to do it this morning. Hygiene is important, whether it's about showering often enough or keeping your city's storm drains clear of debris. 

On Thursdays, the street cleaner comes through at about 9:15 to 9:20am lately. I forgot to set my alarm. I woke up at 8:57am and rushed around putting everything on in the wrong order before making it to my cute little car in time. There were about 3 spots available. I was stoked! I drove my car around the block once to give her tires some time to smoosh the air around inside them and snagged a sweet spot close to home on the non-cleaning side of the street. 

Then the street cleaner came through. I got nerdy about it. Most of the cars on the side of the street in question had not moved. I watched, all proud of myself for moving my car and doing some small part of my civic duty, or something. Still bleary eyed and wearing my sunglasses even though it wasn't sunny, I happily watched the cleaner bob in and out around parked cars, the human inside taking notes, and when it got to where my car had been... it didn't bob in. There were two car lengths and two driveways worth of space and... nothing. 

I was shattered.

But that only lasted for about 37 seconds. Then I remembered that I had decaf waiting for me, and I have no idea what the rules are for that job and that part of the street was pretty clean anyway. Also, I got to wear my parking dress.

The parking dress is a garment I instituted ages ago when I lived in San Francisco. They are serious about their street cleaning tickets. On days when I didn't have to go anywhere first thing in the morning (YAY for being self-employed for ages!), I would don the parking dress a few moments before the cleaner was due. I would race downstairs, hop in my car, wait until the first parking citation officer crested the hill, pull my car out, drive around the block slowly but not dangerously, and re-park once the street cleaner had gone through. The parking officers didn't ever come back around for me. They occasionally gave me the side eye when I ran out a little late, but that was okay. I had my super speedy to put on, always black because then it didn't matter what shoes were handy, extra comfy, stretchy enough to run in parking dress.

This is the first time I've needed it in years. I don't think it's because I used to be less responsible. I think it's because it is rare for parking here to be San Francisco-level hard.