I had the most wonderful experience at the car wash yesterday!
The car was extra filthy, which is good. i like to wait until things get extra filthy before washing them. It's just more fun that way and you get such an incredible sense of accomplishment out of the experience. So if you ever drop by the House of Wee and note a fine film of dust and dog hair over everything, that's just 'cuz I'm preparing for Sparkle Day, a randomly declared afternoon where I arm myself with windex and a swiffer mop, strap on my gun holster with handy built-in paper towel dispenser, mount my trusty Phantom Fury and go on a cleaning spree. You should see it, it's quite the spectacle. I'm a whirling dervish of cleaning power, mopping this, dusting that, vacumning here, there and everywhere. Worth the price of admission.
But I digress. Anyway, the car was definitely at the point where had i waited three minutes longer, a horde of school children would descend on it to scrawl "wash me" and other words of the four letter variety. So I headed off to the new gas station on the corner, let the attendant sweet talk me into the "Super Wash" and got my code.
Back in my car, I waited in line for my chance, slowly approaching the security box. It was a five digit code, and thus required extreme concentration on my part. Unlike my previous pay pal experience, it took me only one try to enter it. A light lit up and flashed.
I could hear the whir of the car wash washing machinery, polishing the volvo before me. I could vaguely make out the rush of water soaking the volvo's hard black body through the semi-transparent door. The excitement mounted. It was 6:17 p.m. and there was NOTHING decent on the radio. I wished I'd packed some cds from home. Next time, I promised myself.
With a sudden rush and a fine mist of water and chemicals that sparkled in the sinking sunlight, the door opened. The "Enter Slowly" light flashed urgently, coaxing me into the wet, shadowy maw. I slipped into gear and expertly guided my car into the grooved plate on the floor, rocking slightly as I sank into place. Red lights flashed and suddenly I was enjoying a pleasurable spritzing of my vehicle, from hood to tail, teasing little licks here there and everywhere. I leaned back, relaxed, sighed. The world washed away in long shining rivelets, sudden sprays and blissful jets. It was all very sexy until Willy Wonka hijacked the car cleaning factory.
With no warning at all, foamy jets of candy color spewed from the over head apparatus, bubbling up and over and splashing my car in marshmallowy glops of pink, blue and yellow. I turned into the girl with klaideoscope eyes as the foamy dots merged and blended over my windshield, my mirrors, my headlights, my everything, the blue and the yellow mixing to lime, the pink blossoming into mauve. It even smelled like candy. Sweet lemony foam swathed me in cotton candy goodness, laffy taffy love. I half expected Oompa Loompas to appear with buffing pads and hoses. I was a little relieved when they didn't. I mean look at them. They're a wee bit scary, don't you think?
Nice 'do though. Especially loving the big poofy pincurl on top. Click here for all your Wonka Needs.*
P.S. The oompa photo is obviously not mine. it came from a site dedicted to Oompa Loompahs. I forget which one now.