The tale of 4F.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Cross eyed mosquitoes & Bowlegged Squirrels:
I tell you a tale, this story is true!
...I don't remember how the rest goes. I am old.
But seriously, the following events totally happened to me, and it led to some very frustrated rants toward Aiden's Papaw/Aiden's GaGa/various Seeestors/anyone who would listen.

I signed my lease to my apartment on August 31st.
It was on this very day that I stepped in, looked around, and quite appreciated what I saw.
The apartment manager lady, we'll call her Alice, told me to check back with her regarding where I should park.
I agreed, I was entitled to a place to park. Covered parking is one of the many amenities included in my 12 month apartment lease. Other amenities include a swimming pool and a fitness center. And now you want to be my best friend. It's fine. Come on over. Call first though. I frequently walk around in my underwear.
I'm kidding.
Probably.
Now, enjoy the rest of your day wondering if I just told the truth or not.
Hanyway, she told me to park in 4F, and I smiled and nodded, and noted the parking space in my "Notes" app in my cell phone.

The next day was moving day. While pulling the truck around with Aiden's Papaw, I notice a maroon volvo parked in 4F!
I think, "OHMYGOODNESS, one of two things has gone horribly wrong here!"
I figured that either a) the volvo was an asshole who just parked in a random place, or b) I noted the wrong parking space.
I decided not to write the volvo off as an asshole just yet.
I could park in an uncovered spot for a weekend, right?
Right.
So I did.
The volvo stayed in my space all weekend long.

The following Tuesday (since Monday was Labor Day), I called the office to confirm my parking space.
4F.
Volvo is an asshole.
Alice said I could write volvo a note, informing him that this spot was taken, and that if he didn't move I could cut him.
I made that last part up...unless you replace the word "cut" with the word "tow".

I never wrote him a note. I decided, instead, to beat him home from work one day.
And that I did.
And the next morning, I had a note on my car:

"Please, please do not park in my parking space."

It was on a yellow sticky note, and it was taped to my windshield.
Huh.

I called Alice again, to verify again that my little car belongs in 4F.
She said yes.
She told me to let her handle the problem.
So I trusted her to do just that.

Then, Friday night, after dropping Aiden off, I parked in my parking space, went inside to shower and beautify, then came back to my car to meet some friends.
Another note, furiously taped to my driver side window:

"2nd notice. Please don't park in my space, I WILL have you towed."

Really?

This time I wrote volvo a note and left it when I got home:

"My sincere apologies. I was told this was my parking space. So. Um. It appears we have a misunderstanding."

I thought surely it was friendly enough and explained that he needed to seek assistance for this matter, just as I had.
Wrong.

Yesterday, I parked in 4F while eating lunch at home.
I ate.
I watched New Girl.
I took my trash out.
I got the mail.
I went back to my car.
I had a huge sticker on my windshield from the apartment manager, Alice, telling me I was illegally parked, and that if I didn't move, I would be cut. (Again, substitute "cut" for "tow")
Really??

While trying to pull the sticker off, I called Alice. Again.
I told her that I received a nice sticker present while parking in the space that she told me to park. Three times.
At first, before I explained the fact that she told me to park there, Alice sounded sort of fussy/all knowing, like, "Why is this person complaining when they were in the wrong?"
I explained to her that I just wanted this whole mess sorted out.
I just wanted to know where to park.
I told her where I live.
She took to the parking space assignment page again (4th time, for whoever is keeping count...).
"Oh. I see what happened here."

As it turns out, 4F belongs to two different apartments. According to their sheet.
They told me the wrong place.
Three times.

The good news is:
This is all sorted out, after nearly two weeks of living there.
My REAL spot is closer to my apartment.

The bad news is:
I keep expecting another note on my "real" spot.



And that's my tale.
That totally happened.
But it's over now.
My mazda sits happily in 5E.
For now.