Saturday, June 18, 2005

At the Car Wash

My jasmine-scented Element never looked so good. Once I find a perfect spot for my latest moose sticker -- thanks, Pappa! -- Oskar and I will be back to cruisin' in style.

For $15, I get 35 minutes of sunlit-bench-book-time while someone else primps, pampers and polishes my blue-and-gray mode of transportation. In mere moments, all nooks and crannies are free from dust and gum-wrappers, and the backseat is once again useable.

So yes, I admit it, driving clean definitely has its perks.

But after spending 18 minutes (timed to the last second) watching a sour-looking man point and scratch and practically sniff every square inch of his Toyota Tercel -- constantly finding "spots" or "smudges" or "imperfections" I felt like using my magic miniature powers and flying away.

Why do we uselessly obsess when we could just as well be productively reveling?

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