It seems like such a small thing: being crooked in the parking spot. Or slightly over the line between the spaces. I wasn't even in a hurry! I was just a sloppy parker today.
Each time I walked away from my terrible parking job, I was reminded of a story that a woman told me about 15 years ago. She was a big woman already, and at the time of the story, she was also seven months pregnant.
I came out of the supermarket, and someone had parked a big, brand new, fancy truck so close to my car that I couldn't even get the door open to get in my driver's seat. I had to go over to the passenger side and get in there. Then I crawled over the console, ended up with a huge bruise on my thigh from the gear-shift, and got myself into my seat.
I was furious!
My seatbelt was stuck in the door, so I opened the driver's door so I could unstuck it, and accidentally "tapped" the driver's door into the offending truck. Five or six times.