Street Sweeping happens every 1st and 3rd Monday here, from 1-3:30 pm. Today is a street sweeping day and Roxy, my beloved car, is the one parked on the street.
It used to be that Leonard, a retired neighbor, would ride his bike around knocking on doors reminding folks to move their cars if he saw one still parked on the street. He was amazing, and felt like an elfin man who was keeping everyone safe from unneccisary misfortunes. His good graces saved me quite a few times from getting a ticket.
Today Leonard no longer rides his bike around to provide his street sweeping ministry, so the remembering is up to us. That US being myself, my mom and my dad. It seems like such a simple mundane occurrence but the remembering of it has become a ‘thing’ in the house, and the very fact that Roxy has to park on the street has become a subtle, or not so subtle reminder to us all that the two car garage can no longer shelter two cars because it is full to overflowing with 30 years of artifacts.
My dad is super practical about it, putting sticky notes that read ‘Street Sweeping’ on both the wall calendars and in his own daily planner. However he tends to get so busy that he forgets to look at either.
My Mom has gone one step further with the stickies, using brightly colored ones on the calendars and putting them on the front door where they are more likely to be seen.
I tend to rely on my own inner elves, aka intuition, to remind me, not wishing to add more sticky notes to the scene.
So this morning I get up with no notion of it being a street sweeping day. I make breakfast in the kitchen right next to the wall calendar with bright sticky notes attached. My folks get busy doing the things they do in the morning and I decide to get on the elliptical trainer for some exercise because I always feel better, write better and seem to be a better person afterwards. I begin my elliptiziing with Snatam Kaur singing to me through my ear buds and 10 minutes in I have the epiphany! Street Sweeping! Today! Time to move the car! So I stop mid-stride, go outside, move Roxy, and come back inside to begin again, letting my parents know that ‘Ive moved the car, no need to freak out when you hear street sweeping sounds’.
It is a little thing, but feels like a gentle triumph for us all, knowing that my inner elves are indeed giving me good intel and that thanks to my folks I probably did see the bright sticky notes on the wall calendar but just didn’t register them until later. It all feels very ordinary and magical at the same time.