okay, so i have this problem. they tell me that this is the first step in overcoming addiction- admitting the problem. so here goes.
*deep breath*
i like washing my car. i really like it. okay, i might even be obsessed with it. is that so wrong? she’s beautiful, and when she’s clean and shiny she sparkles. no big deal, right?
it’s springtime in greenville. oops, i mean blizzards-of-pollen-covering-everything-time in greenville. i know i’ve posted about allergy season before… somewhere. must’ve gotten lost in the Great Crash. anyway, allergy season. it never ends, y’all. and while this year has been considerably less miserable due to the vast amounts of rain we’ve had lately, it’s still pretty bad.
try to understand where i’m coming from here. i walk out to my car in the afternoon and she’s covered in a veritable blanket of icky pollen. and i mean covered. the extra yellow fuzz makes her look a little bit like a bumblebee. and it totally grosses me out.
last saturday i was out running errands and i saw a great sign at a car wash. it said:
“a clean car will ease the sneeze.”
that’s quality poetry, my dear readers. but it triggered something inside of me. dr. phil would call that sign a “danger zone.” see, when you’re addicted to something, there are certain places or events (or signs) that can send you spiraling back into the depths of addiction before you even recognize what’s happening. pretty soon a seemingly innocent advertising gimmick grabs you and it’s all over.
so after seeing the clever sign, dangerous thoughts began to run through my head. “man, chloe is dirty. this pollen is so gross. she needs a bath. what is with this gross pollen? oh look- i can leave anonymous messages to people by writing in this gross pollen.”
and wham! i’m driving down wade hampton and what do i see? a gas station with a drive-thru car wash. drive-thru car washes are few and far between in this city, people. believe me, i’ve searched all over for them. i ask you, is it purely coincidence that chloe and i should happen upon this fortuitous spot when she desperately needs gas AND a bath? i think not. so we pulled in, filled up, and went through the car wash, leaving chloe beautiful and sparkly and me decidedly less obsessive about the gross-ness of pollen.
we headed back to campus, parked, and i popped the trunk. and then i saw it. my temporary tag. i mean, i DIDN’T see it. it was gone! we bought chloe in georgia, and the dealer gave her a temporary tag that will last almost until we can get her home and get for-real plates. and, well, you guessed it. the temporary tag had FALLEN OFF IN THE CAR WASH! or perhaps somewhere along the way. i could see it in my mind’s eye- blowing across wade hampton boulevard like a desert tumbleweed only to be sucked into the engine of a speeding semi or caught by a dangling mud flap and dragged through pollen-flavored muck until unrecognizable.
i immediately went into semi-panic mode. oh no! what am i going to do? it could be anywhere! it’s gone! i never even dreamed that it would come off in the car wash! of all the stupid things to do, audrey! maybe i can forge a new one. what was on it again? i should call my dad. no, i can’t call him- he’ll be all, “audrey, you didn’t THINK about the fact that the tag might come off in the car wash? what exactly were you thinking?” at which point i would have to own up to my car wash addiction. calling dad was definitely not an option.
then it dawned on me. my clean-car obsession had gone too far. this must be my warning. i had to overcome this addiction. i had to rise above the clutching webs of my fanaticism and resign myself to driving a fuzzy bumblebee instead of a sparkly black jetta, thereby saving money, water, and the lives of countless whales, plankton, and other ocean-dwellers. a noble cause. yes, this would be the end of my car wash addiction. obsessed no longer! free at last!
we went back to the car wash later that evening, fingers crossed and prayers uplifted. and there it was, lying face down in the muck. my temporary tag. alive and well-protected by its plastic sleeve. i picked it up, wiped it off, put it inside the back dash, and drove away.
now if you’ll excuse me, i need to go wash my car. she’s looking awfully fuzzy.