"It is easy to ignore responsibility when one is only an intermediate link in a chain of action." ~Stanley Milgram
The sable is currently covered in bird poop because it’s parked under a tree. It’s parked under a tree because I have yet to register my car in the District of Columbia. It’s only a minor detail that I’ve been driving in this district of ours for the past four years and that I have yet to get actual DC car insurance. I’m not all that keen on the whole insurance thing because it seems mighty complicated, I like to keep things as uncomplicated as possible. I can’t get registered (A) because of the car insurance and (B) because I actually owe the District roughly $60 in parking tickets. The parking tickets are as a result of being parked in a zone over the 2 hour time limit without the proper zoning sticker, which I don’t have because I’m not registered because of the aforementioned insurance issue.
Terrible with the paying of the parking tickets, would be an understatement. Sure, I know that I have the ticket, I can see it, I post it up on the bulletin board of me, right next to a captivating picture of me and Bill Cosby. I look at the bored, admire my former thin self and then a shiny object catches my eye and I forget about the parking tickets. But hey! At least I’m trying. It’s entirely better than before when I would freely allow myself to be towed and then cry about it to a parent (whichever parent less likely to hang up on me at the present moment) and have the ticket taken care of. I too am considerably shocked by the amount of responsibility I have. This, for you all playing at home, would be a big fat ZERO.
The other predicament is that I find myself lost in the traffic camera – snail mail space/time continuum. In which the amount of time that lapses between getting caught running a yellow light and the time that the ticket arrives to my mother’s house and the time which she notifies me to tell me that I have received said ticket and questions what I will be doing about it, is about 30 days. We’ll place 50% of the blame on me and my poor driving skills and 50% of the blame on my mother who doesn’t deem it all too necessary to actually open the mail once it’s received. Hell, I’m still not too sure that she actually goes to the mailbox daily, but that all is a different story entirely and we do not say bad things about Peg on this blog.
So for all I know, I could owe the district of Columbia upwards of $160 in parking tickets, which actually may have doubled by now because of the aforementioned great displays of otiose behavior. I’m on a roll here kids…quite literally a roll.