We drove to the movies in San Francisco once. Just once. I dropped my wife off and went looking for a parking
space. The closest one I could
find was in my own garage, so I parked there, and jogged back to the theatre.
My wife started laughing when I explained why it took so
long. And she giggled through the
first half of the movie until I pointed out she’d have to walk all the way back
home in those shoes.
It turned out okay.
We stopped for coffee.
Twice.
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