OCW

OCW not OCD. Since I'm an Obsessive Car Washer. I'm sure my neighbors think I'm insane. Its not at all uncommon for me to be washing the car in 38 degree weather. Furthermore, I've spent many, many lunch hours cleaning my car. Therefore, it was no big surprise to find me outside yesterday washing Mrs. Nouveau's new car (I did mine on Saturday).

And one of her fog lights is cracked. Bummer! New cars suck in that one worries so much about every little thing to happen to them. Plus, she had a new chip on the hood from a tiny rock no doubt.

After cleaning it all shiny I went inside and dropped the news about the fog light to her but secretly decided the poor woman could only take so much, so I neglected to mention the hood chip. She bummed upon my news and mentioned the hood chip which I admitted I noticed too. But then she did a curious thing: she never checked the fog light. Later in the day we used the car and she never checked it out. Perhaps she repressed the memory already.

I would have jumped up and smashed through the front door to check the damage, assess the amount of work to fix it, thrown the appropriate 4-year-old tantrum and schemed how I was going to make it all right. I'm sure I'll take care of this issue too, but if she's not urgent about it, I'm going to be.

Next, we took her car to spend the afternoon at my niece's play. It was cute and pretty well done, but definitely underlines exactly how talented young actresses such as Abigail Breslin and Dakota Fanning truly are. That's all I will say about that.

Anyway we stopped at the grocery store on the way home and upon returning to the car I noticed a door scuff/ding obviously created by the piece of shit van parked next to us. And next to us is about 6 miles across the parking lot, where I always park precisely to avoid fucking door dings from idiots! Mrs. N. saw me lick a finger and rub it. "What are you rubbing?" she asked (and that's not the first time I've heard that - ba da dum!). Man was she pissed.

She stormed back into the grocery store to page the plate number while The Little One and I waited by the car wolfing down American Cheese because we were beyond starving. The guy showed up at the van from a different store I would guess and I asked him about it and we tested his door and it lined up exactly with the scratch. After we tracked down Mrs. N. we got the insurance information and she later began an insurance claim.

He was appropriately apologetic and I'm sure we'll sort it out.

New cars. Yet another worry. We haven't even made the first payment yet!