HWMBO (He who must be obeyed), aka "the spousal unit," aka the family member who still works full time, buys all the groceries and does all the cleaning, has been nagging the bejeezuz out of me since Covid came to town to get up from in front of the computer and out to exercise. I know he's just looking out for my well-being, so I try not to snap back. But one of the reasons I don't exercise is I have vertigo and need a cane to minimize the wobble. Another is I have promised myself I'd get me some orthotics and some new shoes, and just haven't gotten around to it.
So today, I decided, was going to be the day. I got up, put on one of the few pairs of trousers I have without threads dangling from worn-out pantlegs, my least wrinkled shirt, and off I went. Found a place across from La Foot, stuck my credit card in the parking meter and promptly recoiled at the $2.75 hour parking fee. Christ, was it that long I've been hiding in my room? How did we get from a quarter an hour to $2 friggin 75?
I grumbled to the front door of La Foot:
Monday – Saturday: 10:00 am – 6:30 pm
(510) 644-3668
2917 College Ave
Berkeley, CA 94705
You don't have to look that closely to see that their website informs you they're open on Mondays. Well, they lied. The sign on the door says they're closed on Mondays. No apologies or anything. Just closed Mondays.Suddenly that $2.75 began to feel more like five bucks. Go ahead. Rob me blind and then stab me in the back for good measure. I won't add a kvetch about how not that long ago I could have walked to La Foot from my house in twenty minutes, but that's now a distant memory.
Then I got a brilliant idea. I'd drive to the place where you get parking permits and spend $66 to get a J-sticker so I can park on the street when the construction workers come and put a dumpster in my driveway when they start work replacing the siding on my house. I still have more than 45 minutes on my parking receipt and it says "City of Berkeley Parking Permit" without further specification, so I assume it will be good across town.
Except for the time I spent idling first behind a giant book mobile then behind an Amazon delivery truck parked in a way that didn't permit anybody to drive around, I made it in good time, parked, and wobbled my way up the stairs only to find a sign reading "Hours of Operation: 8:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. It was now 4 p.m. and I was once again out of luck. So much for getting up from the computer and venturing out into the world. What kind of city service closes up at 2 friggin p.m.?
I have trouble reading these days. My eyes have gotten noticeably worse since the last time I got new glasses. I have an appointment at Kaiser for an eye exam tomorrow morning. I decided to come home and look forward to that.
Back in front of the computer I see there's an e-mail from Kaiser. It tells me there is a strike pending and I need to be prepared to find all appointments cancelled.
The justice system has put the Orange Fraudster on the docket and they might actually take away his toys and put his ass in jail.
What's a little frustration compared to that good news?
I should get out and about more often.
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