The Joy of Parking

We are reminded frequently how much our very lives depend on reducing stress. No argument there. The hard part is figuring out how. Meditation, yoga—they seem to work fine for some, but I think, as disciplines go, they actually increase my stress level. For years, I've searched in vain for an activity that would bring equilibrium to my life. At last I've found it, and it is parking. I can't think of a better way to spend an hour and a half on a Monday morning.

Once the street sweeper passed, at 8:45, that left a full 75 minutes for uninterrupted enjoyment. The moment the iPod clock hit 9:00:00, I started in on the Monday Times puzzle. By 9:05:29 I was done. (At this point, non-crossworders will think I'm boasting, while competitors realize I will need to cut that time in half if I want to become a contender at Stamford. The question remains whether I want to actually become a contender.)

I then read a few chapters of Calvin Trillin's Tepper Isn't Going Out, a droll parable of civil disobedience through parking whose pleasures had been lost on me due to an unfortunate accident of its publication date—January 2002, too soon after September 11 to make an impression. It does seem a little self-referential to read a novel about parking while engaging in the act of parking, but that's the beauty of it.

I was about to listen to the latest Dawn and Drew Show when I got a call from a friend who was apologetic for disturbing me. Not at all! That's the beauty of parking in the age of cell phones: I can take calls, conduct business. In the future, when I discover where all the free hotspots are, I'll be able to send email. I think there's a strong argument to be made for trading Louie in for a small RV. In my price range, it's one of the cheapest and roomiest work/live housing options available.