Parking Pettiness

This morning, after quite an emotional phone call with my boyfriend who was reduced to skyping me from the carpark outside the accommodation (that he describes unaffectionately as 'the prison' and where, apparently, 2 showers and 1 microwave between 17 people is deemed perfectly acceptable by the management as adequate living arrangements) that he will be housed in for the next 5 weeks, I went outside to my car.

To put the situation into context, I was shaking during and after the phone call and had such a violent undercurrent running beneath my blank exterior that I actually told my SP not to bother being nice to me because I was in a foul mood, due to the situation that my boyfriend is having to currently endure.

I am truly beginning to understand how knowing someone you love is happy can ease your aching and sense of loss, even if they are a long way away from you, for a long time. When you don't have that happiness to cushion you, things become so, so much harder. I have an aggression inside me that I am unfamiliar with: I have never been faced with a partner struggling in an aspect of their life, not to this extent.

Usually my boyfriend has to endure my job whitterings, or hear me mumble about something that appears to everyone else as highly insignificant but to me, at the time, is extremely important and therefore I attempt to command an attentive audience (I have found introducing troubling personal topics that would have otherwise made him suddenly have something very important to do, a long way away from me, over dinner, where he can't run and where I usually cunningly opt to pay for before launching into my current whine, so he has to remain grateful).

I can't do anything about this. I can't do anything about his situation, other than listen, other than try to put together all the love I feel into a few cliched sentences in order to offer him some comfort and support. I am beginning to find, over a hug, over a kiss, how words can just fall limp and lack all the expression that I am unable to communicate. He can't see it in me, he can't feel it. He can only hear it and I wonder sometimes how deep that penetrates in his mind.

So, I went to my car with more than a little aggression bubbling within me.

There hadn't been enough space to park my car right outside the house yesterday, so I pulled into the parking area just before the house, in front of a row of houses. Where there was plenty of room. Even if every house had had two cars, there would be plenty of room.

I was blissfully unaware that my innocent actions had triggered an overwhelming anger within one of the residents of said houses.

My car was parked there for approximately 24 hours.

And on my windscreen this morning was a note, written in pink marker pen, put in a little plastic bag.

What I could make out from the note was that this parking was for residents only. The rest was unreadable because the incompetent idiots had clearly not sealed their waterproof bag effectively. I can only imagine it wasn't something particularly friendly.

I saw red. I was livid. I was, even to myself, a little scary.

The resident responsible for the note, I imagine, knew that I was not a fellow resident and, I can only presume, that I was not a guest of one either. I am guessing that, being the sort of people that reside in this area, they knew where I normally park and, I wouldn't put it passed them, when my birthday is and what my favourite food is (a quick glance in the rubbish would probably give away the latter).

When I drove off with my SP for a gym class a few minutes later, the door opened to the house opposite where my car had been parked and a figure hovered, the lace curtain covering the entrance twitching violently. I caught a glimpse of what I imagine to be the culprit, an older man who proceeded to open the door fully once I had driven away, swearing ferociously.

Obviously my temporary stay in their apparently private car park had stirred up deep unrest. Despite there being plenty of available parking, I had clearly enraged him as I had abused the unwritten parking rules, even for merely 24 hours.

I can feel myself begin to tense once again as I try to express how much I abide pettiness. I do understand how frustrating neighbours can be and how it is extremely difficult to broach sensitive topics such as parking, noise and borders. I've seen glimpses (when switching channels) of Neighbours from Hell. There are some hideous people out there, but I am inclined to think that on quite a few occasions it isn't actually the deemed offender that is actually the neighbour from hell.

From working in nursing and care homes, I am fully aware how age breeds pettiness. When the mind isn't occupied with important day to day goings on, any sort of intrusion by a neighbour in any way can germinate and grow, mutating into hatred and encompassing all rational thought with concern, worry and discontent. With nothing to do, people will often talk and think themselves into feeling aggression towards a person or incident, as something they are able to focus their energies on. This often becomes worse, multiplying and expanding, when discussed with another, similarly frustrated person.

I am also aware of how young girls/women are treated by older men in general (from my experience).

This resident will have seen me and know who I am. I imagine they would not have been so forthcoming with their note had it been on my SP's partner's car instead. Because he looks like he'd beat the living shit out of them.

And I, well, don't.

I look not unwholly like a young girl. I am twenty five, yet my appearance means that I am ID'd on a regular basis and was even queried on whether I was old enough to have a gym membership recently (yep, on occasions its flattering, on some its just plain humiliating and that was most certainly the latter).

I cannot abide pettiness. I have seen it evolve and mutate again and again. It can breed from nowhere into an uncontrollable monster. I am unable to quite express how extremely angry this event made me. I am struggling through one of the toughest times I have ever endured at the moment. And someone thought it was a good idea, after just a day of 'incorrect' parking, to tell me to remove my car. Because it was offending him that much.

Considering I have such a ready tongue when it comes to the gratuitous use of swear words, I rarely swear in my writing, because written the words appear harsh and unattractive.

But there are times when it is unavoidable.

Fuck him. The fucking petty bastard.

Right, now, that feels better. I think a trip to TK Maxx is in order to cheer myself up. I need to concentrate my fired energies into something productive.