It has been one of those weeks where I have recognized that I have many, many faults and it makes me really depressed. I have already mentioned one this week, which is still a problem despite my best efforts to ameliorate the situation. I have a lot more than I could go into, but the one that kind of made me laugh the other day is that I am such a control freak.
I went to get my car washed the other day because let’s face it . . . it hadn’t been washed in months and was becoming pretty unrecognizable. The inside was quite embarrassing. So I went to this place on my lunch break to get the dirty job done. The initial process requires you to go through a car wash with your car in neutral and NO FOOT ON THE BRAKE. This was a first for me, but I thought, hey it shouldn’t be too hard. Who knew that it would be such a traumatic experience for me? I just had to sit there with my foot off the brake, not being able to see anything. I had to completely trust the nice Hispanic men and the contraption that was pushing my car along at a snail’s pace. Instead of resting my foot on the floor mat, I just held it above the brake, shaking just a little bit (ok, quite a bit) anticipating the need to apply the brake just in case. I’m sure the whole process only took 2 minutes, but it seriously seemed like forever. And it didn’t help that there was this huge black SUV right behind me. I thought for sure they were going to hit me. (After being rear-ended once, that fear stays with you forever.) I did feel pretty proud of myself as I pulled out though. As much as I wanted to use the brake, I never did.
But needless to say, I got a free air freshener at the end of the ordeal. Of course I happen to choose the one with a scent so revolting that I threw it away. Never buy the little tree that is supposed to smell like Summer Surf, apparently the person who created it has only been to beaches that smell like vomit. I think there was a misprint; the actual scent is Summer Barf.
But at least my car is now clean.
