WHO IS HANDING OUT KEYS TO THE FOLKS AT THE HOME?

It is my personal belief that every now and then, someone goes to all the local nursing homes and assisted living centers and hands out car keys.

Today was one of those now and thens.

Holy crap.

I had to drive over to the (huge) HMO to see a physical therapist about my knee.

I’m on the freeway behind a group of people going under the speed limit – not just a little – like 5-10 miles under the speed limit. You know the one in front always wanted to lead a parade and here is his/her big chance.

And they are all best friends forever, because they drive shoulder to shoulder, cheek to jowl, and butt to butt, so unless you have an unlimited distance before your exit, you daren’t try to pass, because you aren’t getting back in (obviously, since I am definitely NOT their BFF).

I get to the (huge) HMO and it takes soooo long to get to the parking structure because I am behind a (no doubt sweet) older couple (okay, they are OLD – if I, who am old, am calling them older, you know they are approximately the same age as God’s grandparents), who apparently are terrified and bewildered at finding themselves behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. They stop if there is the barest chance someone within the next quarter mile might be considering pulling out in front of them. And of course, they are going to the same parking structure that I need to go to.

Fuck me.

The old folks in front of me are clearly approaching catatonia as them attempt to maneuver through just the first level of the very busy, very full parking structure. Luckily, I am (finally) able to get around them and head for higher ground. (Run away, run away.) There is no place to park until I get to the roof. But the good news is the folks from the home are clearly unequipped to deal with the higher elevation and I am willing to deal with a broiling hot car in order to be liberated from their tyranny.

Sadly, I cannot remain in my safe (although hot) aerie; and must eventually descend and get in line for someone else’s parade.

Oh well.  Good time to practice my cursing.

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