Magic Nickels and the Grunts of the Invalid

Twice in the past week I've pulled up to a parking meter, and worried about change. You see, I have quarter-driven laundry facilities, so I need to conserve as many quarters as possible. But nickels and dimes only give you 3 and 6 minutes respectively, so there is always an internal battle between not getting a ticket and having clean underwear.

Both times during this past 7 days when I've found myself confronted with a parking meter, I've started by putting in a nickel, and both times I've done this it has given me 40 minutes. Both times I've sat and waited to see if the 40 meant seconds instead. Nope. 40 minutes. I just happen to carry magic nickels.

One of these parking miracles happened while I was trying to deliver a mattress in the city. I had tried to make an appointment the afternoon before, but when I called the guy all I got was Wookiee noises. Without any way of getting my message across, I showed up at his apartment this morning. (They had specified that it was ok to deliver between 7:30am and 11am.) I called on the box in front of the building and I got more Wookiee. And the door didn't open. So I called on my cell phone, and the line was busy. Finally I made it into the building when some other residents left and knocked on his door, only to get TV noise and very quite Wookiee noises. Hospice assures me somebody will let me in tomorrow at 8:15am.

3 words of advice for that guy: Fire your caregiver. (That used to be 4 words of advice until spell check informed me that caregiver was one word.)

(Interesting (or not) side note to this post: I had no idea that Wookiee was spelled like that. But StarWars.com set me straight. Hurrah for the internet.)