Neighborhood Grumpy Busybody

Growing up. I was puzzled by certain adults and the issues that bothered them. Youthful resolution; don’t grow up to be like them. Ha!

My abode is in the old section of town, across from the post office and two blocks from the railroad tracks. In the next block is the county morgue. Nice neighborhood. In real time, my clothes live here. For years I’ve spent twenty or more days each month traveling.

One irritating issue is parking. The Post Office draws a lot of traffic. The postal employees take up all the street parking. My neighbors and I have been enough bother, to the powers that be, that thirty minute parking and permit only parking is on the books. Next issue; enforcement. After each dust up, the parking is enforced. Gradually, the old habits come back. These poor workers are forced to walk one and one quarter block from the employee parking lot! Out of the thirty or so employees, three to four need to park twenty steps from their work entrance. This is about equal to the distance a postal patron, using those parking spots, needs to walk to the front door.

This week the police informed the postmistress parking limits would be enforced even if the employees are elected union stewards. Shortly after this photograph was taken, the street was clear and has remained clear. So, score a small victory for the grumpy old bastard who lives across the street.

This post isn't an attack on postal employees. Over the course of several years, I have always received prompt and courteous service at the counter. Several years ago, I worked for a few weeks during Christmas as a temporary at the airport facility. I was impressed with the hard work and dedication I observed.

Such a trivial matter, I suppose. My family is right. I need to get a life!