Happy Monday, M&%$er!

There is no feeling worse than walking bleary-eyed to your car and finding another car in its place.

Your mind races, "Did I park here?"

"Maybe I am on another street?"

"Did I ride my bike and space it?"

Once you backtrack and assure yourself that you did indeed park your car in this spot late last night, you realize it is one of two possibilities, you got robbed or towed.

This is the second time I got my car towed in Burlington and, like the first time, it was surprisingly not too awful (and was oddly around the exact same time last year).

But why is it that every time I get my car towed I am dressed entirely inappropriately?

Exhibit A: Note the same pair of fuzzy pink boots that must inspire tow trucks to nab me.

Last night they swept the streets of Burlington. Apparently, most people who live IN Burlington knew about this but living in South Burlington, I was totally clueless.

The city put up little yellow signs on 3 feet high sticks around town. Of course, the street I parked on did not have any little yellow signs but that didn't stop them from towing me.

I listened to the sweepers driving up and down the streets late last night and it made me think of the Bay Area where they have year round signs alerting you to street sweeping dates.

When you park anywhere in the Bay Area, you make a point of reading the street sweeping signs to make sure you don't get a ticket. They don't bother to tow you but who wants a ticket.

This is partly why I check signs so carefully when I park anywhere. I am trained after many years and many tickets in Oakland, Berkeley and San Francisco. I ain't no dummy. Well, a bit of a dummy.

This morning the City of Burlington towed my car down to the Coast Guard's lot at the waterfront and left a nice orange $95 ticket on the windshield. Am I contesting it, you bet your pink silly shoes I am.

It wasn't that far of a walk and it was an excuse to cuss out loud and stroll down by the water where the clouds were fittingly petulant and stormy.

From this day forth I will just assume that every time I wear my pink fuzzy boots and silly around-the-house-clothes, my car will be gone and I will have another towing adventure ahead of me.

Hopefully none of them will be as awful as getting towed in Oakland which will always be remembered as one of the weirdest days of my life (remember Nessa?!).