The Walnut Creek Parking Gods

I admit that I have a problem with paying for parking tickets. Since starting to work part-time at Ann Taylor Loft I have accumulated about three (now four) of these pesky pieces of paper. I don't forget to pay them, I simply just don't. I parked in two hour parking for six hours, so what? I'm not really sure how it is that I reason with myself. Instead of sucking it up and sending in my $25 bucks, I wait until it becomes $35 (maybe even $50, I'm really not sure). I decide that I'd rather have some new shoes (or something worth shelling out the money for). Yes, the thought of the parking tickets I need to pay still looms over my head. I know it will inevitably catch up with me. Some days I have the good intention to pay them, but somehow I can never quite manage.

Of course, my stupidity eventually caught up with me. I had worked at Ann Taylor Loft all weekend long (minus Alix's Baby Shower). My feet hurt and I was sick of dealing with rude customers. As I was leaving my Sunday shift, I called Knute in an especially good mood. I was looking forward to stopping at Jamba Juice on the way home. The weather was beautiful and I wanted to sit outside with my book and get some sun on my white legs. My good mood came crashing to a halt when I realized my car was nowhere to be found. What? I thought they didn't ticket and tow on Sundays! I hadn't even been running late that morning. I could have easily taken the extra two minutes to park in the correct parking garage. I called the Walnut Creek Towing Company and found out that, yes, they did have my car. I even had the nerve to ask why it had been towed. I reluctantly called Knute to come pick me up. Needless to say, he wasn't too happy with me. He asked me two very simple questions. One, why do I continue to park in two hour parking when the parking garage I should park in is only about 100 feet further? Two, why had I not paid my parking tickets? I honestly had no answer for him. I sat on a bench outside the Container Store feeling sorry for myself while waiting for him to pick me up. I thought about asking him if we could stop at Jamba Juice on the way to the Tow Shop and then quickly decided that would be a bad idea. After a good ten minutes of feeling sorry for myself, I came to the conclusion that this was all my own fault. What was I thinking? Parking Enforcement is not out to get me (although I still somewhat question this). If the roles were reversed, I know I would be irritated at how Knute could be so irresponsible. I'm going to be a mother. I have to set a good example. How would I react if my daughter thought she was above the law? Of course Knute couldn't understand how I came to this Aha! moment so quickly and repeatedly asked me the same two questions on the drive over to the Tow Shop.

$215 dollars later I was on my way home, no longer feeling like a Jamba Juice or sitting outside in the sun. This doesn't even include the cost of the four unpaid parking tickets I've now accumulated. It kills me to think of all the things I could have done with that money. At the end of the day, it was a very expensive lesson learned.