When I got to work this morning, someone was in my parking place.
Of course, whoever parked there didn’t know it was mine because my name’s not on it or anything, but it’s where I ALWAYS park. They should just know. It’s not like it ruined my day or anything but I have to admit to myself that my nose got a little out of joint. Over a parking place.
We may go through the motions of enjoying exotic adventures and doing something wildly different, but when we get home at the end of the day there’s something comforting about stuff that’s always the same. You may not want to admit it at first, but we all have these little things we count on.
Like what side of the bed we sleep on. Just stop and think what would happen if you walked in and your spouse were on your side of the bed.
“Honey, why are you on MY side of the bed?”
“Oh, I thought I’d try something different. You know, put a little spice in our lives.”
“What kind of drugs are you on? Either move to your side or you can go sleep in the kitchen and I’ll find you some red pepper to sleep with.”
One time at a new job, I poured myself a cup of coffee. Halfway through the morning, a gentleman came up, pointed accusingly at my cup and yelled, “AH HA! You’re the one who took my cup!” It was one of those times when I was supposed to just know whose cup was whose.
Or how about church? I swore I’d never be one of those people who claimed a particular pew, but after a few years, we always seem to gravitate towards the same one. One Sunday when someone was in “our pew” I realized I had become one of those people I always made fun of.
My aunt always had “her” pew and didn’t think twice about asking people to move if they were in her place. Most don’t say anything, but if looks could kill, there’d be a lot of dead Presbyterians right now.
Most families have a spot where they sit at the supper table, too. I know growing up we did, and we wouldn’t have been caught dead sitting in our dad’s chair. I always sat just to the right of him, and it would have felt weird to sit anywhere else.
But sometimes I catch myself feeling ownership of things I really shouldn’t. Two particular things come to mind.
First is the slot I like to park in at Sonic. I know it’s stupid, but I always park heading the same way in the same spot, and miraculously it’s almost always available. Like everyone knows it’s mine, ya know? When I pull in, though, and some idiot is parked there, well, I get a little irritated. I know it’s completely irrational, but I’m annoyed just the same.
The second is a little embarrassing, but I’ll tell you anyway. It’s bathroom stalls. Now you men may not be able to identify with this, but I know the women will.
At the mall, for instance, in the women’s restroom there is an isle with rows of stalls on either side. I always pick the stall halfway down on the right. If I go left, it feels wrong.
At work, there are only two stalls, and I always go into the second one. I don’t know why … they are exactly the same, but the second one is the one I always end up in and so it’s “mine”.
Now there are exceptions to this last phenomenon. One example is when women have to stand in line for any period of time, say at the theatre, a concert, or football game.
In this case, whichever one opens up next is “mine”.
