Saturday, August 13, 2011
And I realized what a privilege it is to have this dedicated disabled parking spot right in front of our house. Not that it's MY spot - anyone with a disabled placard can use it, but that's only happened once. When we had the addition built on the house, we gave up off-street parking. We're close enough to Hawthorne that weekend parking can be a premium, and there were nights we'd have to park a block away from the house, which is aggravating for a person with mobility challenges.
The crew of four (yes, four!) who came yesterday to repair it were quite entertaining for the three-year-olds who were here - OK, for the adults too. (Of one of them, Ms. P remarked, so all the neighbors knew, "He has a Mohawk!") First they blow torched the old tape off - showy! - and then laid down the new and rolled it flat. They were done in a matter of 15 minutes.
And they were a full-service crew. One of them helped round up Liza who, in all the excitement, made a break for it out the front door and pranced up to 38th and beyond. Apparently it was past time for her daily walk.
I don't take for granted the privilege of a disabled parking permit, allowing me to park anywhere for as long as I need for free, and usually getting me pretty close to the entrance of any store or business I'm going into. And this parking spot is a gift I don't take lightly either. It's another one of those things you can't appreciate until you need it yourself.