We have an office building as one of our neighbours. Its parking is right behind our back garden. I don't know which companies owns it or rents it and who works there. Back when I was in the job I hated, I often daydreamt about working there, even though I was (and I am still) pretty clueless about what kind of business they do. It would have been a few minutes walk from home and I could have spent my lunch hour with my family. Sure, it might have been too close to home, but a really short commute also has its advantages. Since the pandemic, the office has been mostly empty, from what we can tell. Even now, when there is no lockdown like there was, the parking barely has any cars in. Six yesterday, eight last week. I count them with Wolfie sometimes. It used to be full. I don't know why, but when I see the lamost empty parking, it makes me feel good. Like daily commuting is now a thing of the past.
Blogue d'un québécois expatrié en Angleterre. Comme toute forme d'autobiographie est constituée d'une large part de fiction, j'ai décidé de nommer le blogue Vraie Fiction.
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