I got a parking ticket yesterday. $47 for backing into a space that was signed for parallel parking. No matter that every other car north of mine was backed in to their spaces. There was a sign that said, “Parallel Parking Only.” I thought it only applied to the space south of mine in which one car was parked correctly.

I could maybe contest it. But for me to get a ticket for following the mob instead of thinking for myself only seems appropriate. I’m always, always preaching that the mob could be wrong. So I think I’ll just pay it and count it as a. lesson. 

Meanwhile, the parking ticket was placed on my car while I was in the nice, new County Service Center, the place you go when the Department of Licensing won’t issue you an enhanced driver’s license because there is no record that you changed your name 56 years ago when you got married. Yes, you got that right. But hey, I took a number, got in line, spoke with a very nice civil servant, got two copies of my recorded marriage license (filed under a name with a typo, thus not easy to find – also fitting as I am the Queen of Typos). After pouting a bit about the parking ticket, I realized that the document I got did not actually verify that I changed my name when I got married, and the name change is the only part that the DOL really cares about. 

I intended to go back today, take another number, and try again to obtain proof that I changed my name, but, of course, it’s the 4th of July. So I will try to remember to try again tomorrow. 

Meanwhile again, we still need to clean up the living room after dumping all of our camping gear in it when we came home last Friday. Did I mention that we went camping last week. What. A. Treat! Yes, camping. Tent, cots, sleeping bags, outhouses, picnic table, fire pit. The whole works. Perfect weather. Not crowded. (We went Sunday – Friday because it’s impossible to get reservations on the weekend.) 

It seems that I love to get out of town. I try not to complain about the constant city noise constantly, but I don’t love it. Makes me love winters when we close our windows. We live close to a freeway and a bunch of hospitals, a fire station and crime, so in addition to the general traffic noise, we have sirens and sirens and more sirens. It’s pretty handy to walk across the street when your heart is failing, or your abdomen is shrieking in pain, but I’m not certain that that convenience makes up for the noise. Hence the joy of getting out of town.

We had one other first world problem, namely a drug that my husband takes daily (for about 20 years, that makes his life tolerable) was unavailable as we were leaving town. Back ordered! Out of stock! Couldn’t be found anywhere! He had enough to get through two weeks, so we went camping and hoped it would get resolved by the time we got back. It wasn’t, but we got a text today saying his Rx is ready. Hope it’s that one ☝️.

All of this has reminded me that my life is so good. Just imagine if we couldn’t afford a car (or gas), or if we didn’t have a government service center a mile away with friendly civil servants eager to sort through gazillion documents to find the one with the typo that was actually mine, or if I couldn’t afford to pay the parking ticket, or if we couldn’t escape the noise of the city now and then, or if we didn’t have ready access to medical care and prescriptions, mostly covered or very low cost, or if we couldn’t live in a retirement home with activities and good neighbors and food that I don’t have to cook, or if I didn’t live in a country where I could speak my mind without going to jail, or live with the luxury of not being in a war zone. 

Folks, I will take my first world problems, with gratitude, any day.