I watched "Car Wash" when I was stoned
Californians like clean cars, which is why mine stands out on the road. I haven’t washed it in two months. It’s not that dirty. I’ve driven through the free car wash (aka, the winter weather on the central coast). On the freeway this morning the rain was coming down and the mist and spray from the tires and other vehicles was swirling in the air. I thought, “This should get my tires clean.”
The animated Office Assistant is sitting in the corner of this Word document. It’s Clippit, the paper clip. I’m leaving him on to see what he says. He hasn’t done much. When I don’t type — those moments when I sit back, stare out the window, and swivel in my chair — he looks around the screen, sways back and forth, and scratches his head. His eyelids become heavy and he dozes. When I type again he wakes. He’s a strange little guy. I like him better than the puppy, though. I can’t say no to the puppy. He’s so cute it’s distracting.
But back to washing my car. It took me forever to find a do-it-yourself car wash. I found it one day while driving home from work, sitting at a stoplight, and looking at the buildings on the corner. Next to a mini-mall I saw the concrete bays with their hanging hoses and spray guns. Since then I found another in Capitola, near where I work. The only other car wash I’ve seen is the kind where an army of cleaners descend to vacuum, wipe the windows, and spray the inside with fragrance before it rolls through the suds. I did it once for the experience. I bought the very basic package (vacuum and quick wash) for $17. The other people in line paid for waxing, fragrance, and applications of Rain-X (you can even get gas there). It costs about $100 for the works.
I could wash my car at home. But do we have a hose? Probably not.
The rains have set in. In California it rains in the winter. Every paradise has a rainy season. My curse in Iowa was: Every time I washed my car it rained later the same day. Now it’s supposed to rain everyday. So I’m thinking: If I wash my car in the morning when it’s raining, will the clouds part and the sun shine later in the day? I’m going to try it. All I have to do is scrounge up enough money to do it.
Clippit told me the spelling and grammar check I did is now complete. He also warned me about fragmented sentences. Clippit wasn't in Angela Balcita’s spring 2005 Nonfiction Writing class when she said fragmented sentences give a piece variety in structure. If Angela said fragmented sentences are good, they’re good. Word is bond.
The animated Office Assistant is sitting in the corner of this Word document. It’s Clippit, the paper clip. I’m leaving him on to see what he says. He hasn’t done much. When I don’t type — those moments when I sit back, stare out the window, and swivel in my chair — he looks around the screen, sways back and forth, and scratches his head. His eyelids become heavy and he dozes. When I type again he wakes. He’s a strange little guy. I like him better than the puppy, though. I can’t say no to the puppy. He’s so cute it’s distracting.
But back to washing my car. It took me forever to find a do-it-yourself car wash. I found it one day while driving home from work, sitting at a stoplight, and looking at the buildings on the corner. Next to a mini-mall I saw the concrete bays with their hanging hoses and spray guns. Since then I found another in Capitola, near where I work. The only other car wash I’ve seen is the kind where an army of cleaners descend to vacuum, wipe the windows, and spray the inside with fragrance before it rolls through the suds. I did it once for the experience. I bought the very basic package (vacuum and quick wash) for $17. The other people in line paid for waxing, fragrance, and applications of Rain-X (you can even get gas there). It costs about $100 for the works.
I could wash my car at home. But do we have a hose? Probably not.
The rains have set in. In California it rains in the winter. Every paradise has a rainy season. My curse in Iowa was: Every time I washed my car it rained later the same day. Now it’s supposed to rain everyday. So I’m thinking: If I wash my car in the morning when it’s raining, will the clouds part and the sun shine later in the day? I’m going to try it. All I have to do is scrounge up enough money to do it.
Clippit told me the spelling and grammar check I did is now complete. He also warned me about fragmented sentences. Clippit wasn't in Angela Balcita’s spring 2005 Nonfiction Writing class when she said fragmented sentences give a piece variety in structure. If Angela said fragmented sentences are good, they’re good. Word is bond.
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