Finally gave in and washed my car. I felt bad scrubbing away the two years' worth of moss and lichen; all these little micro-organisms have made their moveable feast on my dirty little Mitsubishi hatchback, but then it is nice to see out the rear window.
It had gotten so dusty inside I couldn't see the spedometer if there were any glare at all. Not like my car ever even approaches the speed limit, I have to peddle really fast as it is, but it's nice to know how quickly those trees outside my window are flying past.
The dust from gravel driveways, including the place where we lived for three years, combined with rain for eight months out of the year, had caked up so much dusty crud it was quite difficult to read the license plate. Really one of the main reasons I washed it was because I want to sell the car to some desperate college student (Don warn your friends), and also because I needed to put the registration renewal stickers on the license plates.
But the primary reason I washed my car is because that's the modern equivalent of the rain dance. The weather threatened rain a few times today but never materialized. I figured if I washed my car it would guarantee some much-needed rain.
I pray for rain. Hey-yah. Wash wash, wash. Hey, hey-yah. Scrub. Scrub. Hey. Yah.
R came over later and baked pound cakes. She and S and I talked about the origin of the name "pound cake" and she said she wasn't a huge pound cake fan. He said if she ate one a week she would be huge, and it disolved into jokes and giggles from that point on.
She sliced some strawberries and I confessed my love of her and strawberries even though they weren't ripe but they'll soak up sugar overnight and make a nice topping for the pound cakes, and the love was reciprocated and that always feels so nice. She had been gone a week to see her beau in the San Juan Islands up by Seattle, a whole week gone, and she said I was the only one she called upon her return because she knew I wouldn't be jockeying for position and other catty bullshit, I'd just be me and she loved me and that made me happy.
The best of friends are those with whom you pick it up where you left off and there's no awkwardness, no stupid pettiness, it's just love.
Love is simple. It is all you need.
Love and rain, I mean. Of course the two are not mutually exclusive. I love the showers and strawberries.
It had gotten so dusty inside I couldn't see the spedometer if there were any glare at all. Not like my car ever even approaches the speed limit, I have to peddle really fast as it is, but it's nice to know how quickly those trees outside my window are flying past.
The dust from gravel driveways, including the place where we lived for three years, combined with rain for eight months out of the year, had caked up so much dusty crud it was quite difficult to read the license plate. Really one of the main reasons I washed it was because I want to sell the car to some desperate college student (Don warn your friends), and also because I needed to put the registration renewal stickers on the license plates.
But the primary reason I washed my car is because that's the modern equivalent of the rain dance. The weather threatened rain a few times today but never materialized. I figured if I washed my car it would guarantee some much-needed rain.
I pray for rain. Hey-yah. Wash wash, wash. Hey, hey-yah. Scrub. Scrub. Hey. Yah.
R came over later and baked pound cakes. She and S and I talked about the origin of the name "pound cake" and she said she wasn't a huge pound cake fan. He said if she ate one a week she would be huge, and it disolved into jokes and giggles from that point on.
She sliced some strawberries and I confessed my love of her and strawberries even though they weren't ripe but they'll soak up sugar overnight and make a nice topping for the pound cakes, and the love was reciprocated and that always feels so nice. She had been gone a week to see her beau in the San Juan Islands up by Seattle, a whole week gone, and she said I was the only one she called upon her return because she knew I wouldn't be jockeying for position and other catty bullshit, I'd just be me and she loved me and that made me happy.
The best of friends are those with whom you pick it up where you left off and there's no awkwardness, no stupid pettiness, it's just love.
Love is simple. It is all you need.
Love and rain, I mean. Of course the two are not mutually exclusive. I love the showers and strawberries.
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