YESTERDAY, I saw two chairs on Centre Street attempting to "save" a shoveled-out parking space. That told me that the post-snow games had begun.

We haven't played these traditional after-the-snowfall sports for several years, because until Thursday, we hadn't had enough snow to make it worthwhile.

Chief among these contests is the tussle to hold on to a parking spot. Around here there is a long-standing - and illegal - practice of "saving" a shoveled-out street parking spot by blockading it with furniture and other tacky objects. I keep waiting for a local artist to paint a mural - or is it "Muriel"? - of a Baltimore street filled with parking-spot furniture.

The bigger the snowfall, the uglier the furniture gets, as does the behavior of the folks contesting ownership of the space. I once saw a statue of the Madonna - the religious one, not the MTV one - holding a spot.

The savers say that since they went through the trouble of shoveling the space out, it "belongs" to them. Other folks who want to park in the spot contend that the streets belong to the people.

If tradition holds, a law enforcement official will issue a statement this weekend reminding citizens that it is illegal to put furniture in the street. Police, however, are not anxious to send somebody to the hoosegow on a charge of illegal use of lawn chairs, and pretty much rely on neighbors to work this out among themselves.

So in this game, the law may be on the side of the folks who believe that the streets belong to the people. But tradition and sentiment seem to favor "the savers."

Overriding all of this is the issue of "getting along with neighbors." It seems to me that if you steal somebody's shoveled-out space, they probably won't invite you to their holiday party, and they may even leave a surprise "present" on your windshield.

While the contest for street parking occurs in the city, there is a suburban form of this game. It is the hunt for mall parking.

During the holiday shopping season, competition is already fierce for parking spots, especially those "good" spots near the mall entrance. But snow removal crews usually add "snow towers" to the mall parking lot landscape, mounds of snow that take up spaces and could remain there until late March.

It is not spring in Baltimore until the last snow tower in a mall parking lot has melted. Until that happens, those parking spaces are spoken for. At times, I have been so desperate for a mall parking spot that I've "stalked" shoppers who apparently were getting ready to leave the lot. Once I saw keys in their hands, I followed them anywhere. At other times I have "created" a parking space by wedging the nose of my car into the base of a snow tower. That is risky. You can get stuck.

One of my favorite post-snowfall sports is jumping over slush puddles. Conditions will be ideal for it this weekend as piles of snow, pushed off sidewalks by snowblowers and shovels, begin to melt and create icy bodies of water at street corners.

The object of slush puddle jumping is to propel your body through the air, over the frigid water and onto a safe, dry landing spot. It is similar to the broad jump in track, except that when you jump a slush puddle, you want to land only on your feet, never on your bottom.

Perhaps the classic post-snowfall sport is what I call "beat the plow." It consists of trying to wait until the plow has gone down your street before you shovel out your car or the end of your alley or driveway. I am convinced that some plow drivers hole up in hideouts, waiting until they get word from confederates who tell them all the driveways have been cleared, and that now is the perfect time to strike.

Finally, we area homeowners get to engage in a couple of other post-snowfall activities that are filled with more worry than fun.

One would be gutter-watching. Here, you go outside and look up at your gutters to make sure a) that they are still attached to the house, and b) that they are not jammed with ice.

A related activity is listening for the drip. This you do inside your house, usually on the top floor. If you hear nothing, you are relieved. Silence means that the gods of shingles and sealants have smiled upon you and your snow-covered roof is not leaking.

If you hear a drip, and then see it, it means you have to call your roofer. Moreover, it could mean that it's going to be a long winter.