Four and a half weeks ago my daughter was in an accident. She busted her ankle and ended up with an over-the-knee cast and crutches. Not fun.
Yesterday, the cast came off.
I'd never been to a cast removal before. In case your wondering, they use a little electric saw. Then they take pliers and crack it open like an oyster. I worked very hard at acting interested rather than freaked out. )My daughter, for her part, was genuinely interested.)
So now the good news is she's in a boot. The bad news is she's still on crutches for another couple of weeks.
But the really good news is we get a "handicapped" parking permit!
If you're like me, you've always resented those "Handicapped only" parking spaces. All right, I can understand why somebody in a wheelchair or a cane would need special parking at the supermarket or even the mall. But Home Depot? Who are they kidding? How many handicapped people you figure install their own plumbing? Give me a break. Somebody's scamming someone.
When we first got the permit I was dazzled by the possibilities. Think of it: no more cutthroat competition in the parking lot. We could just sail into one of those blue-lined spaces and stroll (or im my kid's case, limp) a few yards to the store. And just in time for Christmas shopping, too.
"It's true," I cried, "every cloud does have a silver lining!"
"My ankle hurts Mom."
"Offer it up." Which, as we all know, is Catholic Momspeak for "shut up already."
But after a few days of my proud new sticker ownership I realized something weird was going on. Never before had I had such fantastic parking luck. I mean, in regular spaces. I've been finding regular spaces that are more convenient than the handicapped ones.
Which led me to a dilemma: Do I take the primo regular space, or go for the handicapped one?
I finally reasoned that taking the primo regular space would be wrong. I mean, if I with my handicapped sticker privileges take a primo regular space, then some poor guy without my privileges has to go farther afield for his space. If I take a handicapped space I'm leaving the primo spot for someone less fortunate.
Or more fortunate. His kid's legs must be in one piece.
It's all in how you look at it.