Jenny Rosen and I had planned to organize her closets.
She has recently commenced Plaza living. She works eight or nine jobs, so getting unpacked and organized has not been easy for her. Others have helped: Her mom, Jessica, her friend Reed. Me, I’m a closet girl. I like folding, taking things off hangers and piling them in Goodwill bags, and sorting tops by color. So I volunteered for Closet Duty.
But it turned out we both had worked too much yesterday to feel capable of eating salad bar from Sunfresh while sorting shirts. So instead, we met at DISTRICT in Waldo.
After two tours of the parking lot, it finally dawned on me that the place had no designated handicapped parking. I pulled into the curb-side spot by Louie’s Wine Dive and walked the length of the block to get to DISTRICT. Jenny had not yet arrived. I asked the hostess where the handicapped parking for the restaurant might be and she said, “I don’t actually know,” just as Jennifer Helene Rosen sashayed through the door.
A few minutes later, the owner came from the back to tell me that the handicapped parking was “down the street, by Louie’s Wine Dive”. What? I explained the ins-and-outs of the ADA’s parking requirement, to which he replied, “I have no control over that, I just lease this building.” I smiled, explained again, asked his name which I could not hear (due to my hearing impairment) and suggested that he talk to the building owner while Ms. Rosen stood by, smiling and supportive as she always is.
We had a delicious dinner — fried polenta and kale salad for me; a Reuben with house-made slaw for her. The waiter enticed us with talk of the infused Vodkas, which Jenny tried and pronounced lovely. A couple of hours passed and we both realized that fatigue had begun to turn us into mush, so we left. She walked me the block to my car and listened while I told her something that had been bugging me all evening, namely, that I had just had an epiphany about someone which hit me like a ton of bricks.
Jennifer waxed both philosophical and supportive, as she always does. I drove her to the non-accessible parking lot at DISTRICT and then headed for home, thinking that all in all, it had been a reasonably enjoyable day, a normal day. Not a Hollywood day; not a Hellish day. Just a day — with highs that sailed above the horizon, lows that did not send me into a plummeting spiral. A day in my life during which I survived, and maybe even got a little ahead. So, no complaints.