I know this sounds pathetic, but I need a good sob.

How long has it been since I last had a decent bawling?

Eight years old? Maybe nine?

Someone — anyone — hold me.

The other day, I drove to school, and noticed, to my dismay, a car parked through — I kid you not — three parking lanes. The owner of the black car had parked their vehicle at a forty-five degree angle, occupying two spots in the same row, then decided to also invade half of the lane in front.

So yes, a total of three lanes.

I parked opposite the car, and saw a note attached to the dash.

In crude, boyish writing it read:

“Nice parking job, Sugar.”

You could hear my snicker a mile away.