42...41...40...DOH!

The train station that I take to get to work is hardly a mile from my apartment. There are two parking lots: one is free, the other is not. The freebie lot is above the other lot on a hill and you have to take these steep wooden steps to come down to the platform. (I know where you think this is going, but no, not this time) I used to park in the freeloader lot, and climb down the stairs and think during icy conditions the stairs would not be safe. Mom had the same idea. She forbid me to park in the freebie lot for safety reasons. Now, Ma has never endorsed spending money so I was shocked to hear this. Its not like its an arm and a leg though, its only $1.

Ma: Farah I will deposit $5 in your account everyday, but you are NOT going to take those stairs! (followed by a whole lotta punjabi I dont care to share!)

Now here's the deal: the lots are numbered and there is this huge board that has coin slots for change. Farah loathes change! I think its such a waste. Not only that, Farah NEVER has any change when she needs it! Like ever. Do you know how many trains I've missed because I either couldnt find enough change quick enough, or I had EXACT change and lost it on the way to the board. Thank God the machine takes all change. I feel sorry for the people standing behind me as I feed 80 pennies into the slot.

But now, over time, my life has seemed to take on a "Groundhog Day" pattern. The only thing I had was my spontanaiety and now thats gone, too. Every single day its the same old thing. I dont even need an alarm clock anymore. I wake up on time without it.

Whats worse? I park in the exact same spot every single day. #39. I have tried so hard to purposely switch but something always happens that causes me to park in #39. One day, it was snowing and the numbers were covered up. By the time I got home the street had been plowed. What number was I parked in? Yup.

This morning, I saw three empty spots in a row, and I went to the one to the farthest right. I always call my family right as I pull into the lot, so I reach into my bag for my phone. I cant wait to tell them I finally broke the curse of #39. But, its not there! Excuse moi? I sit in my car for a good 3 1/2 minutes tearing apart my bag looking for a cellphone I realize too late that it isnt in my bag but sitting on my desk at work. Sounds of the train approaching snap me back to reality. I turn off my car, grab my bag and run for the platform. Its the absolute last train into the city to get me to work on time.

As I dash past the big, huge coinboard, I think, OHMAGOSH!, I didnt put my coins in the slot! What number am I in? In my hurry I had forgotten to look down at the number on the pavement. I cant walk all the way back because I'll be late but I can see my car from a distance and so I start counting backwards from the cars near me: X...42...41...40...ahh crap!