Driveway of Venus

Seat’s taken.

Park it here. I’m not talking about your caboose, either. You know, the big fat red one in your…basement? I’m sorry if that came out wrong. I need to stop assuming that all of my readers are model train enthusiasts. Back to parking. I bring it up because I just can’t get over being completely and utterly head-over-heels in love with…my driveway. That’s right. I’m a driveway lover. Granted, I never, in a million years, thought I’d be so thoroughly enamored with something as plain flat and boring as a driveway, but yet here I am, down on bended knee, laying a bouquet of roses onto the rough gravelly surface of my asphalt beauty. The thing is, I’m not exactly sure why I’m so ga-ga for my Compacted Rock and Tar Stationary Vehicular Inertia Area. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve lived my whole life without ever owning a parking space. Or perhaps it is because I can park like a moron and nobody can say boo, except of course for nosey neighbors and/or ghosts. Fortunately, I haven’t encountered either as of yet. But I suppose there is a first time for everything. For example, spreading a blanket on the rock hard surface of my personal parking lot and enjoying a buffalo chicken wrap, or five, basking in the warmth of the lazy afternoon sun. Sure, after about two minutes my legs go numb and I have small pebbles embedded in my palms, but the feeling of knowing It’s My Driveway and I Can Lie On It If I Want To is almost worth the pain. Almost.

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5 thoughts on “Driveway of Venus

      • I can always ship you a box of snow, if you decide you want the experience. Driveways should be experienced fully. In the meantime you should try wind-up toy races, a game of marbles, and rollerblading. Thing is, when are you going to be able to tear yourself away from asphalt activities to make time for slip n slide? Don’t want the grass to feel neglected…

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