“Hey You, Get Off of My Cloud”

Or, umm, rather get off of my concrete asphalt

Courtesy of the Dental Practice Across the Street where I live

So, when I first moved to my current abode, there were parking places out back to park; this was fine, although not really preferable as there is an alley during which, at certain moments, cars would be vandalized and items stolen. There also wasn’t very much light illuminating the verdant path to the side porch, but hey, I was living in a lovely old historical house built in 1903.

Albeit, on the third floor ;)

“But, isn’t that just so very European” thought my fevered brain at the time.

Steps to climb! And lots of them too! Good exercise! This is why French women never get fat, right? It’s all those stairs they must climb each day.

Of course, I was taken in by the beauty and history of the house, it appealed to me aesthetically; this was a lovely “honeymoon” phase which lasted for a period of time before the “reality” intruded and I discovered that I had mice.

Which is a totally separate story from this one, actually.

After a while, the adjacent parking lot around the other side of the house became empty, even though at one time it had belonged to the Regional Jail Authority Administrative Offices; they had either moved or departed altogether; the parking spaces were numbered for those former…