Because I Have Learned From The 90s


Yes, it’s annoying to have reached the point there’s not enough hard drive space. There’s an obvious hack. Nothing to do but put them on flash drives. I don’t like it, but that’s all right. I don’t have to like my contrivance, it just has to work. There’s the obvious choice what to offload, too: all those photographs from past years. They’re great, but I don’t need all of them all the time. It’s easy to put the pictures onto a flash drive. Two flash drives, since if I only have one copy of a thing I don’t have any copies the thing.

But. I’m not going to repeat the mistakes of the 90s where everything was scattered across Jaz drives and CD-ROMs with useless labels. I’m going to give these a nice clear description of purpose. They shall be My Image Storage Storace Contraption, and My Image Storage Contraption 2. At least as their full names, so I remember them. To fit on a flash drive label I’ll have to use the acronyms.

Another Little Mystery Of The Neighborhood


So there’s this city block near us that’s slated to be torn down. It had hosted a restaurant, a barber shop, a couple other small shops, some apartments overhead, that sort of stuff. It’s scheduled to be demolished and replaced with a new building. That’ll be able to host, oh, a restaurant, a barber shop, a couple other small shops, some apartments overhead, that sort of stuff. Only it’ll be a modern building, which means it’ll be lined with that new kind of brick they have that looks like a fake brick even though it’s real bricks. I don’t know how brick manufacturers have figured out ways to make real bricks look fake, but they have, and they’re going to show off that severely postmodern brick-making technique.

Anyway, behind the doomed buildings was a parking lot. There still is. It had been a metered parking lot. But at some point the city, I imagine but do not actually know, came around and took out all the parking meters. So, you know, free parking lot now that there’s nothing to go to there, which is something.

But it’s got me wondering what happened to the parking meters. Was there some other parking lot in town that had a desperate need for meters and that was finally satisfied? Or did the city decide to take the meters and put them in storage? If so, why, since it’s not like they couldn’t get at least a little spare change from people who figured to use the lot anyway? Or did they just not want to risk some kind of mischief happening, so they put them all in a storage locker? And if all these parking meters are sitting in a storage locker, are we positive someone’s paying the rent reliably? Because thinking of a 20-by-20 unit of parking meters getting impounded just makes me giggle almost to the point it could be heard.

Out Of The Parking Lot


Over behind that neighborhood block they’re going to demolish was a parking lot. There still is. The construction plan as I understand it is that after the construction the parking lot will be a parking lot again. But it’ll probably be one of those new parking lots, where there’s little islands of trees so you can never pull forward out of your space. Parking lot designers hate folks pulling forward with the kind of intensity you’d expect for homoiousionism or how many spaces to put after a period or whether there were twelve or thirteen starships like Captain Kirk’s. I don’t know why. I suppose parking lot designers get frustrated, like any of us. And I guess they’re taking out their frustrations by putting trees into their work rather than going outside and berating squirrels or whatnot. That’s respectable. It’s more dignified, anyway, and maintaining your dignity is one of the best ways to make sure people have no idea when they’re offending you. I feel like something’s gone wrong somewhere, but we all do.

Anyway. All those buildings from a couple weeks ago that used to be things? Like the United Nations store that somehow existed? (That has to have been a front for something, right? But why not do their money laundering with something less obviously a front, like a used-quarters store or just a mass of burly men in heavy coats standing around saying “there’s nothing going on here”?) They needed parking, and the lot is still there. It used to be a pretty good space if you needed to park at the hipster bar or the less-hipster bar across the street. There was always lots of space and the parking meters stopped charging at 5 pm.

There’s a bit of parking space behind the hipster bar and all that, but not enough. This is important to city life. Cities drive innovation because they reach a critical density where folks can’t park. This gets people to think about ways to get enough parking in town. There’s no way to do this, but once the mind is focused on the parking hassle, it starts having other non-parking-related ideas, like:

  1. “Invent Google!”
  2. “Have uniform prices for a wide range of department store goods, streamlining business and allowing for hte hiring of more clerks than could plausibly become partners or proprietors of their own businesses!” (If it’s the mid-19th century and you’re one of the new class of department store managers)
  3. “See what it’d be like if you used conditioner on your beard!”
  4. “Be Henry Ford and build internal combustion motor-driven cars! (NOTE: BE HENRY FORD FIRST — MOST IMPORTANT!!)”

That third is a great idea, since my barber mentioned how soft and well-behaved my beard was last time I got it trimmed. It doesn’t make me any money. But any unsolicited compliment from the person cutting your hair is an apple of gold. The others were good bits of commercial and social progress too.

But in the last couple weeks, since the last restaurant closed, the lot’s lost its parking meters. Most of the metal poles are still there, like giant pieces of metal wheat, but there’s nothing on the tops. The easy thing to suppose is that the city figures there’s no reason to charge for parking as long as there’s nothing to park there for. But that implies the city figures it’s worth taking all the meters down now, months ahead of the construction starting. They must be in storage somewhere.

But then they’re taking an awful risk. What if someone loses the key to the parking meter storage locker? And you just know that sending the mayor in to straighten things out won’t work. There are two kinds of city mayor. One is the relentlessly polite boring type that couldn’t argue the fast food counter into taking an order. He’d be useless in settling a storage locker dispute. The other — the kind Lansing has right now — is the brash big-talking type that you remember because he might slug someone and you’d get to watch. That won’t work for the storage locker problem either because the clerk at the locker place would end up punched. I grant we have to take the risk of the storage locker key getting lost anyway. But why add unnecessary months for things to go wrong?

As I say though, that’s the easy thing to suppose. Too easy? Remember that we just learned how a whole road in Russia got stolen. What if someone’s swiping parking meters from lots that nobody would pay attention to? Someone with a couple dozen hot meters could very slightly starve mid-Michigan for nickels and dimes and even quarters. Without this small change what would we put in parking meters? I don’t know, but I bet there’ll be an answer from someone who was just looking for a place to park.

Organized!


I bought some plastic storage containers today. Is there any feeling better than buying plastic storage containers? Yes, there is. Better is seeing somebody you can’t stand getting trapped underneath an Internet Dogpile as Twitter or Facebook or somebody notices they said something really stupid, and they go on just making it worse every time they try explaining that what they meant was something that was just like what they said only without the Twitter universe noticing them.

But buying plastic storage containers is right up there. It gives all the thrill of having your life in order even if you can’t figure out how to get them to fit in the car. I’m so hooked on this that the basement is turning into enormous stacks of empty plastic storage containers, looming high and making menacing faces at me when I do laundry.

So here’s my money-making idea: I’ll open a shop where you go in and wander through aisle after aisle of boxes of all kinds of shapes and colors and opacities and wonderfully complicated lids and snappy things and all that. You go around and buy all the ones you want, and then we keep them in the store so you don’t have to deal with getting them home or putting stuff into them or being afraid of the tidal flow of empty containers.

(Until then, the solution to getting the boxes home is to warm up the engine, melt the containers underneath the hood until they flatten out, and then when you get home reverse the process by backing your car into the driveway.)