A barking blog never bites

Now that I am not as fat, I like washing my own car in one of those bays. I used to like to take it to the car wash and sit and watch it go through the tunnel on the conveyor thing because sitting and watching things was my favorite thing to do when I was heavier. But now I like doing it myself with the spray nozzle thing and the brush with the soap that comes out through the bristles. I haven’t figured out why I get looks. I get looks that could be, “Why are you bothering? It’s a Saturn.” Or the look could be, “You’re a chick. Chicks don’t wash their own cars.” Or it could be, “You’re too short to be able to reach the roof of your car. What are you doing?” Or it could be, “Aren’t you that girl in the Honda commercial?” Or “Aren’t you that girl in the Honda commercial? Shouldn’t you be driving a Honda?” I don’t know. But I certainly get looked at like I don’t belong. Whatever. I do prefer it. It also only costs 6 bucks which I MUCH prefer.

This is an example of: there is a certain amount of satisfaction I get out of doing things myself. Now, let’s be clear. If I had the money I would have a personal assistant do things for me that I don’t enjoy doing, like pick up my dry cleaning, take my recycling to the place, go get stamps, do my video downloading, organize my closet, dry my hair for me, shave my legs, cut my toe nails, stuff like that except for those last three. Going to the Laundromat would be FIRST on that list, but it occurs to me that if I had enough money for an assistant I would probably be in a living space that had a washer and dryer and wouldn’t need ANYONE to go to the Laundromat anymore. I would probably have recycling pick up also, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make so STOP confusing me. I’m saying, I wouldn’t turn down help and I would love to have someone do some stuff for me, but I really like being able to point at something and say, “I did that. That’s my accomplishment.” It doesn’t matter if it’s something as simple as washing a car. I still get a sense of pride out of completing that task. I could do considerably less when I was fatter which I am SURE fed into my sense of worthlessness that then made me bitter and angry. But that’s really more a story for my shrink rather than this blog.

All I’m saying is try washing your own car either in your driveway if you are one of those lucky ducks with a driveway, or in a bay. Try to find one that recycles it’s water or uses organic suds or something, but try it. It’s kinda fun. Your car looks shinier when you look at it after washing it yourself. Anybody remember that movie with Ellen Degeneres called “Mr. Wrong”? Bill Pullman’s character claims that no beer tastes better than a stolen beer. I’m not sure if that’s a good analogy, but my car seems a lot shinier to me when I do it myself. And I look at it MUCH more often. Find ways to get that feeling of satisfaction. It keeps you runnin’. Buzzin’. Truckin’. I don’t know.