Today was 75 & sunny in Carolina. Gorgeous! I still had a bit of a cold, but was determined to be outside and be productive in some way. So I cleaned my car. I mean CLEANED it. When I worked in hospice, I was known to have the clown car, the trunk and back seat piled high with papers, musical instruments, books, art materials, etc. I've been a bit better since then but there were still a number of trips from car to home and car to dumpster.
Then I vacuumed it.
The I got an oil change.
Then I freakin got a car wash!
I know this is what normal people do on a regular basis. But I haven't washed my car since I got it (it's a little over three years old). That's probably bad. But in Boston it was disgusting all winter, so why bother, and so rainy in spring so why bother. I guess why bother in general.
I got a voucher for the car wash at the gas station, and circled around it twice, totally intimidated. I had no idea what to do. I went and did the oil change, and an hour later was back, determined to figure it out. After a certain undisclosed number of minutes the light turned green, a loud honk was heard, and I sat in a closed up car wondering what comes next. I remember when I was little going through a car wash was like the coolest thing ever. So I was completely unprepared for a mini panic attack. My car moved all by itself, there were loud noises, I couldn't see anything. Eventually everything came to a halt and I creeped out of the little garage, the pride of my shiny car outweighing the residual panic. When I parked and checked it out I realized that some of that off-road rural NC mud must have been really caked on there, because it's still there. So it needs a touch up, and new tires, and I still have to get new insurance, and a license and registration here (yes, I've lived here for seven months). But my car is still happy to at least be sparkly in the springtime sunshine.
(Disclaimer: car above is actually not my car.)