This week has been and will continue to be one of those weeks you are anxious for to be over. Probably because this weekend I will make my television debut/have nothing planned except quality pool time..which is something I am looking forward to! (yes i know, bad taste, end sentence with a preposition. blah. sue me-I know a great lawyer).
Preface:I do LOVE my job!
Every 10-12 weeks you are required to work "the late shift" or 10am-7pm. There are a number of reasons why the late shift should be coveted, but I hate it. Sure, I don't have to be at work until 10 a.m., which should mean sleeping in...and it probably means sleeping in for everyone who doesn't have a spouse whose alarm clock goes off at 5:30, but it doesn't mean sleeping in for me (because I have said spouse whose alarm clock goes off at 5:30, then every 10 minutes until 6:20 when he gets up).
So I get to work and there is not.one.friggin.parking.spot. I mean, I kid you not, we have a parking deck for my company and hundreds of parking spots, and every single spot was gone. What does this mean for me? Well, I am glad you asked. It means I have to park in an adjacent companys lot, trapse through the weeds and mud (because it did rain yesterday) and probably get my car broken in to by the thugs up here in Johns Creek. (There aren't any thugs, there are some perverts, which I shall blog about later. you.will.die.)
Now, I am no prissy britches. I have been known to tinkle in the wilderness (back in my dirt road days) and I've once worn deer urine as perfume, but there is a line in the sand for me...I am not walking on unpaved surfaces in my Tory Burch Revas. No. Flippin. Way. Luckily, the one person who can give me the authority to park where ever I please is a woman. She saw the look of fear and desperation in my eyes when I told her "but they're Tory Burch! I just CANT!"...and she let me park in the loading dock (with the understanding that I would be on standby if I needed to move my car).
Parking has ALWAYS been an issue at my office-We are the corporate headquarters for an international company...as the company grows, employee numbers grow and parking becomes a premium. So I have a few choices-I can 1.)attempt to get a handicapable parking tag, 2.) Carpool , or 3.) Become a tractor bigshot and then I can just park where ever I want (and they do, like, really random places, the bigshots just park. like, I would have parked in a space, but my mercedes just couldnt make it there).
A view from the uninhabited lot I was forced to park in this morning. This is where they expected me to park yesterday, but I said "No way, not this gal". You can't even see the building! It's a magnolia jungle!
I parked next to the jag, because I felt like if a car was going to get jacked or broken in to in Johns Creek, it'd be the jag. So if some suburban thug is like, "Man, I'm going to jack this 2004 slightly rusted infiniti..." when they saw the jag they'd be like "nevermind, I'll take the jag". I'm a genius, I know.
Today, knowing I would likely have to park in the deserted lot, I came to work prepared. Yep, I have terribly ugly feet. I get it from my daddy. But do you see how tall the grass is? and wet? I don't think Tory would like it if I took her out in these sort of conditions.
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