How much is a parking space really worth?

I have been living in Venice Beach for over five years. I have never had parking. This was okay when I was in my twenties. Now that I’m in my thirties, it’s getting old.

I’ve always carried my groceries blocks. When I was living in Queens, I was fifteen blocks from the subway. I carried many things many blocks many times. I was much thinner then.

Someone in our apartment building has moved out and for roughly $4,500 more a year or $400 more a month, I could go from a studio to a one bedroom with parking.

But the thought of actually moving exhausts me—even if it is only downstairs.

Plus, I HATE my neighbor. He belts out “Man in the Mirror” at the top of his strained vocal register and it is offensive to MJ’s memory. He is slaughtering the song. I want to take a hatchet to his head. Our building is not a rehearsal studio. Rent a space.

I fear I have become old and bitter.

I should be in a house. Old and bitter people live in houses.

But I live in an area where one has to be a millionaire to afford a house! Why is life so cruel? Then I think about the children born into brothels in India and know I have no right to complain.

But I’d still like a parking space. And a father to my children. As long as I’m making the list, I might as well check it twice. I’ve not been naughty, but nice. Eh, it depends on who you’re asking. As Samantha Fox sings, “Naughty Girls Need Love too.” I bet she has a parking space.