The Red Car

There's this red car that has been parked—badly—outside of my apartment since the day I moved in nearly a year ago. I've watched dead leaves gather around its ever-flattening tires, snow and ice take longer to melt under its bumper than elsewhere, and more recently, spider-webs grow on its front grill and wheels. I used to be mildly annoyed that I have to walk around it every morning and every night, but now, I want it gone. It is no longer a mild amusement: now, it's in my way. You see, now I have a car, and I want that parking spot. But no, no no, it has a parking sticker saying that not only does it belong to one of my everso delightful neighbors, but also that it can legally keep its rotting ass right there.

Some people would try to draw an analogy here, something about how people with great talents and skills never seem to fully appreciate or use what they have while the "rest of us" have to work for what we get. Or something about having cake? Or is it ice cream? Mmm... ice cream...