Daydreaming at the Car Wash

Took my car in for the monthly car wash. In a land of little to no rain, I refuse to wash my car until the outside fog becomes too thick and impairs my driving. Okay, so that fog is really my filthy car windows, but still, as long as I can make out the shapes of the cars behind me, the car's good for another three weeks w/o a washing and I get to pretend I'm on an adventure in England driving during a foggy night.

Normally I keep a very tidy car. Nothing in it but magazines, an emergency kit, CDs, pair of shoes, 12 pack of diet Lipton tea, a plastic yellow school bus for Butterfly, two botles of water, car freshener, clean, empty 32 oz plastic water cup for the just in case moments.

I don't eat in my car so there are no food wrappers, discarded or old pieces of food, empty fasty food containers. I don't want my car to look like my room and because I'm usually the only one in it the car inside remains pretty decent.

I go to these places and just as I've done most of my life, I look at everyone and make up stories about them. Just like I make up stories about my fellow Bloggies.

Anyway, at the car wash this morning there was the usual assortment of folks: the requisite blonde jabbering on her Treo about how busy she is and how she hates the time wasted at the car wash. I swear, this lady was barking orders on that thing to some poor Elaine until I felt sorry for the other girl. The phone was probably off and the lady was just putting on a show. She's probably Elaine and has to wash the boss's car.

There's the executive in his crisp pants and perfect long shirt and matching tie. This guy even had his leather bottomed shoes shined while he waited. He also talked into his phone but just to remind his secretary to tell his buddy he would be in later that morning. He's probably the partner in a law office on his way to the golf course to discuss his latest client's line of action.

Then there's the cute muppie couple. She dripping in Chanel jewelry (the logo's all over this babe's body) while he's decked out in everything Polo. They didn't talk too much to each other, just sat quietly holding hands. They're probably having an affair and can only meet at downtown car washes where they're sure to remain anonymous. Did I mention they came in two separate cars?

There's the young buck with his nose so far in the Sports section of the paper he was oblivious of anyone else. He's probably a private dick spying on the afore-mentioned muppies.

Then there's me, the secret agent hiding in plain sight, knowing the case is finished now that the fog will be gone for another three weeks.

Photo courtesy of whizchickenonz