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One of the joys of city living is not being one of the lucky few to have parking immediately adjacent to my building. I have a short walk to my parking lot. Which isn’t that big of a deal, really.

One of the other joys of city living is a certain routine, a rhythym, to life.

There’s the little cafe that is just opening every morning as I pass by. There’re the workers who are getting off the busses and walking past me on their way to work. There’s the little shop owner who is always unloading his dry cleaning for the day…

And every day, as I pulled into the lot on the way home, there was a loud, tap-tap-tapping that I couldn’t place.

When I finally did place the sound – I had to laugh. The building behind my parking lot is residential. I’m not 100% certain, but I think it’s senior housing.

Standing in the window of a third floor apartment (effectively on the second floor compared to the parking lot) was a man who was clearly mastrubating.

OK, I’ll admit I was a bit surprised – but I just laughed and moved on. And now, the mastrubator has become a part of city life. He’s not there every single day, but he is there regularly. And maybe one day I’ll start paying enough attention to figure out his pattern.

I guess it’s safer than flashing?