A few weeks ago I jumped for joy when I heard that Parenting Magazine was holding a “Messy Car” contest. I mean, have you seen my car? Oh wait. Most of you haven’t, but trust those who have, it’s bad.
Well, it was bad. Not so much anymore, but I’m jumping ahead here. Gimme a sec.
So anyway. Last night I had the best dream ever. Well, not ever, it didn’t include semi-dressed celebs or bathtubs full of ice cream or anything. Instead I dreamed that M cleaned my car, inside and out. I woke up convinced that it was true. The car gleamed. All the stuff was cleared out. Nothing was sticky, icky, or ewy. And then I walked past the window on the way to the kitchen and I spotted my decidedly not gleaming car sitting by the curb.
And I laughed, and told M about my dream and instead of laughing back he said that we should clean out the car. Today! Right now!
And that’s how I found myself standing in the street in my hot pink jammies, cleaning out the car that hadn’t been cleaned since before Little L’s birth. Whining about the Parenting Magazine contest, which M said I wouldn’t have won anyway. I took some pictures, just in case, but I think he was right. Phoee. I could have used that gas money.
You tell me, was it messy enough to win?