04 30 00

wax on

This morning I eagerly awaited the return of a cartoon from my childhood. Dungeons and Dragons, a show that I haven't even thought of in years, was advertised last weekend while Dave was down.

"When did they say it would be on? What time?" I exclaimed, clinging to my hapless fiance.

"Uh, next weekend, I think," he replied.

"Next weekend???" I wailed.

Anyway, I waited. I lived. I watched.

It sucked.

It was a lot more cheesy than I remembered it. The animation reminded me of bad Scooby Doo episodes. The writing was cheesy, and the story line was predictable.

Have I really matured so much in - what, 10 years? - that this show, a show that I used to watch religiously, doesn't appeal to me anymore?

Aaah, sooo...

With nothing better to do with my time, I decided to wash my car.

I took Dexter over to my parents' house and washed him. He was covered in bird shit, and I wanted to get that off before it ate the paint off. After I washed him, I got it into my head to give him a wax job.

My enthusiasm didn't last long. It's been a long time since I've waxed anything other than my legs, and I've forgotten how tiring it is. After waxing the hood, the right front fender and the right front passenger door, I gave up.

I got into a bit of a groove while I was working, though, doing the "wax on, wax off" thing. It was strange rubbing my hands all over my car, getting intimate with his nooks and crannies. I found some dings and scrapes that I wasn't aware of before, including one big nick right in the middle of the hood.

If my arms hadn't started getting tired, I probably would have finished the wax job. It was nice, working outside in the fresh air like that, just me and my car. Now I can understand why those guys like to wax their cars every weekend.

Quit-o-meter

Hmph