I washed my RAV the other day. It’s the first longish spell of springtime weather and I’ve got the windows opened, the condo is clean the vehicle…the RAV WAS clean.
I KNEW it was going to happen.
That little niggling voice at the back of my brain kept warning me “don’t do it. It’s puddley out. The forecast calls for more sun. Water is running down the streets”. All the evidence pointed towards a shiny vehicle short-lived. Mother Nature was shouting “DON”T DO IT! IT”S NOT TIME!” But did I listen?
I wanted shine and sparkle to go along with the opened sunroof. Instead I got dirt grime and muddied windows.
I spent the time and energy (and $11.95 I’ll have you know) on something that only lasted two days.
And as I came to this understanding I realized that quite often this type of thing happens in life.
Remember when you were in high school and you liked a certain boy. So you make sure you’re in his line of vision in class or at a game. You buy a new shirt that you just happen to know is his favorite colour. Day after day you wake up two hours earlier so you can curl your hair (or I guess the girls nowadays are straightening theirs) and look as pretty as can be and…
…. back to the car wash you go, because he asked out ANOTHER girl.
As a teacher, you spend time and time and time preparing a lesson on, oh, lets say, how to write a thematic statement. You practice in class. You coach and encourage and create opportunities for learning and then an exam comes along and…
…back to the carwash you go to revamp the lesson.
Or you decide to be domestic and bake a batch of banana bread. You let the bananas get to the optimum ripeness required for baking. You buy the ingredients. Carefully follow the recipe. Make batter large enough so every member of your family and the entire floor of your condo (hey, you have moments of neighborliness) can have a loaf. Then you pull the pans out of the oven and realize you forgot to put in backing soda so you now have copious amounts of what looks like banana biscuits instead of banana loaf so…
…back to the carwash you go, this time just to dispose of the catastrophe and eat handfuls of leftover chocolate chips.
So, I figure if life is filled with returns to the carwash, you might as well go through the really BIG puddles and make it worth your while.