I've had that bug going around that saps every last drop of energy out of you and converts it into snot packed into your sinuses.
Slogging back & forth from Bart is already a drag, but becomes much more so when feeling like a wet paper sack.
Earlier this week I saw the little black cat that loiters around that area and became consumed with worry about this poor little kitty living in skeevetown near busy streets where no one gives a shit about driving the speed limit or waiting for a green light.
On Monday the traffic lights at the intersection by the garage were blinking red, and as I waited to make my left turn, a dipshit coming from the opposite lane blew straight through the intersection. He never even slowed down.
As I walked to the train after parking my car on Monday, I overheard a woman asking a man who had also just parked if they really check for permits before 10 a.m. Um, yes, they do, you lazy ass, and thanks for taking a spot I pay for every month.
Can't afford to pay the monthly fee? Then don't park there. Or get there earlier when there's plenty of parking for ONE GIANT DOLLAR on the top three floors of the garage.
I want is a ranch large enough where I can save all the beautiful kitties in the world and a Peet's coffee nearby.