Parking Lots

Do you ever find yourself circling a parking lot multiple times hell-bent on locating the nearest open space to the entrance of the building that is your destination? I do. I do it all the time, and I don’t for the life of me know why. Would it kill me to walk an extra 10 or 12 steps? Probably not, but I continue to do this time and time again. It can be a perfectly beautiful 75° day without a cloud in the sky, and what am I doing? Cruising around that parking lot as if I were in the middle of a category five hurricane.

It’s a hard habit to break, and as habits go, I didn’t think it was all that bad. Then the unthinkable happened. My daughter casually strolled by my car one day and pointed out a tiny chip on my door handle that could only have been caused by a car door swinging into it. I looked, and my breath caught. I was horrified. I should probably mention here that the car was a fairly recent purchase and the only new car I have ever owned, so this came is quite a blow.

I was beside myself. I momentarily considered taking it to a body shop to have it repaired, but then I got a grip on myself. I realized that I could easily go to the auto parts store and get one of those little bottles of touchup paint and do the job myself. The thought of it made me a little nervous, so I’ve been putting it off for months. It’s a tricky repair. It’s going to require reading glasses, a magnifying glass, and a steady hand, but I might be able to pull it off. If it’s a mess I may end up taking it to the body shop after all.

In the meantime, I’m trying to exercise some self-control and force myself to choose parking spaces at the far end of the lot away from the rest of the cars. I don’t want to endanger my vehicle. It’s too traumatic, and yet although I now know what can happen, I still find myself drawn to those spots where all of the cars are bunched up near the front door. I can’t seem to help it. I’m really wrestling with this issue. Old habits die hard.