Neighbourhood Parking War

As I sit on the couch looking out the window, I notice that the truck from across the street that was parked in front of our house has just moved. I run to the door, tell Rob that I'm moving my car, throw on my shoes, grab my keys and fly out the door.

Why would I go to the trouble to move my car ten feet closer to the house you might ask? Why not just stay parked where I am until the next time I need to go out? No, no, no, that is what a sane person would do. I, on the other hand, am not ashamed to admit that I am a little bit of a neurotic obsessive about the situation. Of course, I am validated in this obsession by Rob's equal partnership in crime.

Rob and I live in a suite in a rather large house. The main floor is divided into two suites, and our landlords live on the top floor. Being that we are the second class renters of the house, we are subject to the first come first serve parking available on the road. This was a non-issue when we moved here one year ago because we did not have a car. That changed when I got a car a few months later.

It took some trial and error to find a place to park near our house. The other tenants in the house usually got to the one spot in front of our house before I did, so I usually opted to park in front of the neighbours. Well........ this is where all the problems began.

I usually parked in front of the empty lot across the the street from us. This was not a problem until they started construction building a house on the empty lot. To avoid the risk of my car being crunched by a bulldozer, I opted to park elsewhere. The first time I parked across the street in front of a neighbour's house, an older gentleman living there told me I couldn't park there because his daughter usually parked there. I replied with, "Oh, I thought parking on the road was first come for anyone?" to which he answered that people had first dibs on parking in front of their home." Rather than argue, I moved my car.

So, a few months go by. Our neighbour tenants move out and I am able to start parking in the road spot in front of our house. Then one day, a truck (from the same house across the street where I was told I could not park) starts parking in my spot in front of our house that I'd waited so patiently for. "O.K." I tell myself, "the road is first come first serve. I will just park there the next time." However, this truck kept consistently parking there.

After a while I get really frustrated. I come home from work one day. The truck is in my spot and nobody is parked in front of the neighbour's house. I decided, that if it's O.K. for the neighbour to park in front of our house, that I can park in front of theirs. I park in front of their house. I get out of the car, O.K. nobody is causing a fuss about it yet. I walk to my house, get inside. I tell Rob that I parked in front of their house, and he says, good, since they always park in front our house.

A few moments later, we hear the woman who lives across the street screeching about my car. This woman has the shrillest voice in the world that I'm sure the whole neighborhood can hear for miles. Her husband has come home and isn't able to park in front of their house because I am there (of course, if her dad, who lives in their basement hadn't been constantly parking in my spot then I wouldn't have parked in front of their house). Rob then yells out the window at her that I have no where else to park because their truck is parked in my spot. She then goes on to say how we have no rights because we don't own this house (because, home ownership is the real issue). Meanwhile, all I can think about is how we are all just a stick's throw away from a reality T.V. show about the antics of a trailer park trash.

So, ever since this incident, the truck still insists on parking in front of our house. There really isn't anything I can do about it (well anything legal that is). So just to be petty, whenever I temporarily lose my parking spot, I obsessively watch the window to see the first opportunity to take my spot back.

Ya, I'll be the one in the nursing home with the collection of troll dolls that I talk to at night about my roommates that are stealing my imaginary things.