Most days The Swede and I arrive home from work before six o'clock and therefore within the timeframe during which one must pay to park on our street. So I stay all warm and cozy in the car while my sweet fiancé takes a walk to the parking machine to buy us a ticket. Inconveniently, indeed even less convenient than having to pay to park in front of your own home, the machine is located in a spot that requires The Swede to cross the same street twice to get to it. Unless, of course, he races the traffic down the middle of the street.
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