That's My Spot

Those familiar with the Big Bang Theory television show know that Sheldon has his place to sit in the apartment he shares with a roommate. If someone is in it he glares and says, "That's my spot," expecting them to vacate.

I always park my new old van on Forest Avenue alongside my house. It's directly under a streetlamp and right in line with the window on the staircase landing between the foyer and the second floor hall. I can walk out of the bedroom and look look directly down the steps and see my van parked safely under the glow of the LED lights installed awhile back. 

Then came last night. Or, more correctly, very early this morning. As I returned from a curling match (a 7-6 win on something of a gift, an errant shot from the opposing skip, but I take what I can get) just after midnight, ready to leave the new old van safely under the window, I was shocked to see a white sport ute parked there. "That's my spot!" I actually exclaimed aloud.

Of course it's not 'my' spot. It's a public thoroughfare. Anyone can park there and I know it. But they don't. In fact, this guy could have parked anywhere twenty or thirty feet beyond where I do, as no one else was on the street. Yet there it was, smack dab where I typically park. Right where few if any others have before.

It caused a moment of panic when I was leaving for work today. As is my habit, I looked right down the stairs and my dear new old van was not there. It was a blank space as sport ute had moved overnight. "Why isn't my van in my spot?" I immediately worried. With a curse. New old van was actually in front on Avery, in unfamiliar territory.

So it goes. But some days I really get Sheldon.