My wife refuses to let me participate in the coveted, Chicago tradition called “Dibs.”
Here’s the picture definition:
We currently have over two feet of snow on the ground here in Chicago.
And, let me tell you that’s no easy chore to dig out, especially when the plows throw another two feet right on top of your curb.
After a couple hours of digging through snow and ice to create a perfect little space for your car to fit, and for everyone to enjoy a snow-free entrance into the kid-caravan, you feel like you’ve climbed Mount Everest.
And there’s nothing worse than coming home to find some two-faced prick parked directly in your spot.
So, Chicagoans started putting lawn chairs in the street to call “dibs” on their spot
And even robbing innocent old-folks of their walkers to use to claim “dibs” on their spot.
Genius!! I know!!!
So after Snowmageddon 2011, I dug a nice snow-free home for our car and then started lugging a couple lawn chairs to the curb to use whenever one of us took the car.
My wife quickly popped her head out of the door and screamed, “what the hell are you doing with those?”
In a manly man caveman style I said, “Me protect spot. Me work hard. Me dig in snow, get sweaty. If car go vroom me put chair in spot so no one take. Me get angry if spot gone. You go make dinner….protect kids! You make self pretty for manly man husband!”
She wasn’t a huge fan of that.
In fact, I was told, “putting lawn chairs in the road doesn’t promote neighborly relations!”
I immediately reminded her that the people on this block who are actual human beings already know us and would never park in front of our house. The rest…well...the can burn!
I lost the fight
And as a result, we have access to my neatly shoveled spot 80% of the time.
The other 20% of the time I’m out late at night shoveling as much snow as I can on their car.
One day I’ll have balls enough to stand up to the wife and tell her that she can….
Hold on, I’ll finish that sentence in a second…the wife’s looking.