so blond

Pull the truck into the curb. Is it close to but not over the crosswalk? Better check. Plenty of time, after all. Have to sit with the thing for half an hour yet so I don't get a ticket. Get out and leave the door open a crack to look.
Oops! There's the sanitation police and the street sweeper. Have to move, quick. Back to the driver's side.
Can't get in. Car locked. Keys inside. No Hide-a-Key. Street sweeper rumbling impatiently.
Shake hair down out of bun. Pick up stick from street and ineffectually try to unlock door. Shrug at street sweeper driver. Doorman tries to help with coat hanger. Sanitation police stop to offer advice. Doorman offers to watch truck while I run the four blocks home to fetch extra set of keys, if I can find them. Run home. Run back.
No ticket. No towaway.
Why I can't stop: Born blond