This morning, when I came outside to get in my car and go to work there was a white van parked directly behind my driveway, blocking me in. It was right behind my vehicle...there was just no way around it.
I was walking around the van, thinking I'd go by my neighbors house to see if she knew who owned the van, and I noticed movement in the van.
There was a man, sleeping in the van. AT THE WHEEL. In front of my HOME.
I knocked on the window and the man seemed irritated that I had woken him up.
"Buddy?" I said. "Do you need some help in there?"
"No," he said, irritated. "I'm sleeping."
Oh. My bad.
"Sir," I said, politely as possible. "This is private property. This is my house. You can't sleep here."
Okay, technically it's not private property. His van was TECHNICALLY on the street and not my driveway. However, I was banking on the fact that he didn't appear intelligent enough to brush his own teeth, much less be aware of various county ordinances.
"Fine," he sighed. "I'm going."
He revved the engine of his 200 year old van. With a lurch and a cloud of smoke, it took off up the street.
Running over the bicycle that a kid left in the middle of the road last night.
Crushing the bike.
It started out bad, but ended up okay. I guess.
In a cosmic sort of way.