It's not that I care a great deal, but I cannot help noticing that both readership and comments are down in droves. I've done what I can. Chuck, whose comments apparently made readers here uncomfortable, no longer comments here, The problem apparently lies in the fact that my life is boring even to people other than myself. C'est la vie. The life of a medical school student on too-frequent medical hiatus is not the stuff of California Adventure Land's most exciting roller coasters.
My kind and gentle care has packed up and moved on to San Francisco. My Uncle Steve and Aunt Heather had been here with me, providing my every need and want for the past two days. Now they've gone off to the city, and my dad has replaced them. Tonight I wanted an In 'N Out Burger for dinner. Dad said that was ridiculous because there was plenty of food in this house for me to eat. He pointed out a shelf full of breakfast cereals, a freezer with bread, and pantry with peanut butter and jelly. When I rejected his suggestions and he rejected my request for transportation, I reached for my keys.
"You really shouldn't be driving," he admonished.
"I have no legal restriction against driving," I responded.
I drove slowly and carefully the two miles or so that it took to get to the nearest In 'N Out Burger. The drive-through line was a minimum of twenty-five cars long. I parked in a spot that looked like it wouldn't be too tough to get out of. One has to be careful when parking at In 'N Out Burger because the drivers in the drive-though line often will not let the parked customers back out of their spaces. It could be a two-hour experience if one is not careful where one parks.
I got my burger and root beer quickly by going inside the restaurant. Once I returned to my car, the car that had been parked next to it had moved, and the lighting had altered slightly. I could see that I was standing on diagonal yellow lines, indicating that I had parked in a handicapped spot. Worse still, as I circled my car in incredulity, I saw a ramp directly in front of my car. Even the handicapped were not supposed to have parked there. It was the access for cars on either side to get from the sidewalk to the parking lot.
I managed not to be ticketed. I didn't feel particularly guilty about having parked in a spot reserved for the handicapped (even if even the handicapped themselves weren't really supposed to have parked there) because how much more handicapped could a person be than to not know he or she had parked in a reserved spot? I did feel bad about anyone I may have inadvertently endangered with my imperfect vision, and drove home very slowly and with great caution.
I take responsibility for my role in this fiasco that could have been much worse, but does my dad? Apparently not. He had the nerve to complain that I didn't buy anything for him to eat. At this rate, send me back to Dr. Juvy.