Busy, busy, I've been of late. No time to say hello or goodbye. Not much to write about either.
Over the course of several days, I detailed my car. Menial, manual labor is not my thang, so I tend to procrastinate these kinds of tasks and also because I know what I'm in for. Once I do get started, lookout, I become obsessed. Nothing else in the universe exists. Prepared with a big square container filled with sundry cleaning supplies like leather cleaner, leather conditioner, vinyl cleaner, glass cleaner, carpet cleaner, a roll of paper towels, soft cloths, sponges, q-tips, toothpicks, a knife, tweezers, etc., I tackled the job. And what a job. There are zillions of surfaces, nooks, crannies, knobs, buttons, ridges, crevices, vents, covers, that comprise the interior of a car - areas that we never focus our attention on - until they need their dirty little faces cleaned.
First, I removed all the floor carpets and the entire trunk carpet for a good washing. And I know how to wash carpets. I learned from a Persian. They really know and love their rugs. So do I. Authentic, antique Persian rugs are one of the few unnecessary inanimate objects that I will covet. They are magnificent, intricate, painstaking works of art - that you walk on... I would, without hesitation, pay outrageous sums of money for them, lots of them - if said outrageous sums were at my disposal, that is. Anyway, I laid the carpets out on the grass and proceeded to work them over with detergent and the hose.
While the carpets were hung up and drying, I went after the trunk, spending about two hours on it. And you know, from the initial impression, it was not dirty, but when I zoomed in on each and every square millimeter, well, it took me two bloody hours.
It was getting too dark, so I quit at that.
On day two of the cleaning saga, the interior was my target. I can recall neighbors passing by, smiling and waving, on their morning stroll. I can recall neighbors passing by, smiling and waving, on their evening stroll...
The last day was the easiest - all that remained to be done was the exterior. After detailing the inside, washing the outside was child's play. The weather was warm and sunny so it was rather enjoyable, apparently for the mailman as well. I noticed that the smile on his face as he walked past me after dropping the mail at my door appeared somehow overly friendly. Then when I went into the house I realized why. I caught myself in the mirror and saw that I had two, very wet, very transparent, areas on my t-shirt. I see. So did he... I imagine that mailmen see all kinds of things on their daily route.
My Beemer is so perfectly perfect now that am half-avoiding using it. It looks like a black diamond on the outside and a luxury suite on the inside, with a redolence of leather, earthy and sensual.
Every time I get in it I want to take my shoes off like I was in Japan or something. Instead, I just tap my feet together in the air, to knock off any bits of the outside world that are clinging to the soles. Speaking of Persians - like the Japanese, they will also remove their shoes upon entering a house. There's always a bunch of shoes in the foyer of their homes. There must be some nasty, dirty streets in those countries. Also, with those beautiful carpets spread out all over their floors, it's understandable how that custom came into being.
When I get out of the car I scan over the seats, carpets, dash, looking for hair, bits of lint, a leaf, any alien molecule that has dared invade my perfect space. I quickly snatch the intruder.
This obsession with maintaining my car in showroom condition will wear off in a short time. Then slowly, with ninja-like stealth, the dirt, dust and crud will creep back in. And one day I'll look around to see that I'm driving around in a pig sty again. I really hate entropy.
