Working at the CarWash!
So the other day, as I was driving down Crowchild Trail, the sun was shining brightly and it was a gorgeous, bright, winter day.

Too bad my windows were so dirty that I couldn’t see squat out of them.

I had pushed it too far, left it too long. Nope. Not even a trip to the gas station and some lovin’ from the squeegee would save me this time.

It was time. Time for a carwash.

I love the carwash, and so I’m surprised how long it always takes me to get there. I’ve always got other things I need to do. Groceries, coffee stop, work, running late. I never seem to have time. But the other night, I decided, enough was enough. When you can’t tell if your headlights are on because they are so dirty, it’s time to go.

Going to the carwash makes me feel happy, like a child. It’s loud and there’s lots of stuff going on, but it’s all pleasantly muffled from the safe interior of my car. Although, now that I am an adult, there is an added level of suspense: Did I close all the windows? What about the back one that’s a little dodgy? Will it hold??

But it does and then the pretty colored foam gets sprayed on and I try to find exactly where it is that it turns pink and green, but I’m only ever able to catch it if I let my eyes drift over the entire windsheild. Scrutinize one point too hard, and you’ll miss it. I splurged on the luxury wash, which I consider a deal at 8 bucks. Nothin’ too good for my baby!

And now my car is bright and shiny and I’m busting with pride as I stare down at it in the parking lot. Do yourself a favour. Take yourself to the carwash today!

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