Talent Show

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I am a woman of many talents. If I were a character in a Jane Austin novel, other characters might call me “accomplished.”

I’m really good at shopping without actually purchasing anything. I’m a Boondoggle pro. I can smell milk on the cusp of its expiration date from a mile away—which leads to my next talent…I have an impressively loud gag reflex. Did I mention that I have strong tooth enamel?

There’s one talent, however, that I cannot claim as my own. I can’t park. I try… oh, I try… but my car always ends up exceedingly crooked or less than three inches away from the car next to it.

My parking is a source of endless amusement for my husband, who teases me relentlessly at every journey’s end. I just shrug my shoulders at him. I have out-used my excuse “They can’t all be winners”—thereby stripping myself of all credibility.

There was a time when I was a brilliant parker. The glory days of 2002. My car always gave ample room for next car over to open its door. I could parallel park and even do backwards u-turns into particularly narrow spots.

I scammed a guy or two into falling madly in love with me by showing off my parking skills. Apparently, nothing is sexier than a woman who has command over her vehicle (even if the vehicle is a 1987 Corolla).

Unfortunately, because I used my parking dexterity for my own evil purposes and not for the greater good, the talent was taken away… just like that.

Drats.

At least I have boondoggle as a fallback. Boondoggle is sexy… right?