Sunday, September 16, 2012

At the carwash

I've never been one to care about washing my car. Living in New York in the winter time taught me that car washing is a futile, losing battle. So when we moved to North Carolina and my car wasn't perpetually white with road salt, I call it pretty clean.

That is, of course, until this past week when I realized that my van hadn't been washed since before we drove to Boston in July. I know the guys out there all let out a collective groan of disgust just now, reading that its been more than 2 months since the exterior of our van saw a sudsy sponge. What do you want me to do!?

Well thankfully, I have an observant son ('Mommy, your van is VERY dirty') and a husband who likes to wash vehicles. Between the two of them, they devised a plan to wash my van this weekend, before someone wrote "WASH ME" in the grime on the back window.

Out came the buckets, out came the sponges, out came the soap... and then out came the power washer. Nate, Luke and Matt scrubbed and sprayed and successfully the cleaned the front driver side corner of the van while Will and I stayed dry in the garage.

The boys started losing interest.  Our neighbor came over and asked them to play.  They were gone.  Will needed some food, so he and I had to go inside.  Poor Nate was left to wash the three-quarters of the van by himself.  He did a great job!  For my one car wash of the year :) and of course it rained all day today.  Car washing is a losing battle.

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