I know.  Everything about my driveway clearly says free street parking for tradies visiting the neighbourhood.

Readers, I know that this was one of those moments in which I was meant to take a few deep breaths, rise above my anger and handle the situation with decorum.  Without breaking into a sweat and ruining my make up or freshly ironed outfit of the day.

It didn’t happen.  None of it.

I circled the immovable mountain that was the silver ute taking photos of registration plates and searching for clues as to how I could call its owner.  I was reduced to asking every tradie looking person I could find on the street whether they owned the silver ute parked in my driveway.  I wrote a note in my best block capitals on the largest piece of paper I could find (pictured) and placed it firmly under a windscreen wiper.  I was this close to winding masking tape across the windscreen to secure it instead but my shoulders weren’t up to the task on account of the sharply tailored button down shirt I was wearing.

I hit social media to express my outrage.  I was given practical advice as well as a link to a great twitter account where you can contribute photos of truly bad parking (it also has a great name and hashtag I’m too polite to publish here).  The twitter account made my laugh.  The lady at the council offices promised to send a ranger out to see what they could do.

Fortunately, Toddler SSG could be walked safely down the road to daycare though he was upset that the walk which usually leads to the bus stop or a cafe ended more abruptly than usual at the day care lift.

Which left me to sort myself and the rest of the day’s carefully choreographed plans out in the wake of this ‘minor inconvenience’.  A taxi was caught in to work and a time frame this weekend has been secured for me to drive back to work with the car to get the rest of my things.  I’ve treated myself to a comforting cup of coffee and a tray of sushi from the new place down the road.

In a really annoying round about kind of way, perhaps there was a reason I wasn’t meant to be driving today and the silver ute was my guardian angel for the day?

The thing with most of the problems that stir me into fits of irrational rage and stomping around is this.  It’s not the rage and stomping that sorts the problem out.  It’s the taking a step back, thinking before acting and seeking advice that does.  The lesson never changes each time I’ve learned it and I forget it so quickly each time that I’ve learned it.

Let’s all have a bit of a debrief today.  What’s happened to you recently that’s made you abandon your rational self?