In our area of the Midwest, mid- to late- October weather can be dicey at best. So, this past Sunday, when we were blessed with a clear, sunny 70-ish degree day, nearly everyone took advantage of it.
I was (technically) outdoors, but spent three hours detailing our vehicles. Fun. Fun. Fun.
It was a "must," since both the car's interior was looking pretty bad; and the van? Oy vey. It was starting to smell.
Now, before anyone goes all judgey on me, let me assure you we are a fairly tidy family -- with the exception of a few bedrooms which appear to have had isolated tornadoes touch down. I function much better (and everyone around me is much happier) when things are orderly and clean. Actually, I'm kind of OCD that way. So, when I approached the driveway with a trash bag, a rag and the Armor-All, it was easy to see I meant business.
Two hours, a kitchen-sized trash bag and a stroller full of blankets, socks, books and whatnot, I stepped away from the van satisfied. Every last inch... every nook and cranny had been vacuumed clean and washed down. Biggest surprise? The number of petrified french fries I discovered. (Which, you know, kind of lends a little more credibility to the recent story about Happy Meals and their "shelf life." Eeew.) Most irritating find? The chocolate something that Charlie put in his cup-holder, only to have it melt and resolidify, melt and resolidify God knows how many times. If carpet and upholstery could shine, the inside of the van would blind you. There isn't a spot of anything, anywhere. If any of them so much as lose an eyelash in there, I'm going to know about it. It was at this point that I announced to Jeff that he and I were the ONLY two individuals ever allowed to bring anything into the van: be it food, drink or diversions.
The car was next, and proved to be a much easier job despite the fact that it looked as if someone just dumped grass clippings from mid-June all over the carpeting. When all was said and done, and the Shop-Vac had been retired for the day... I was pleased.
Yesterday on my way to work, I kept looking at the interior of the car, smiling to myself. Clean. Clean. Clean. (See? I am kind of OCD about it.)
And the first person to even think of leaving a candy wrapper, crumpled receipt, half-finished bottle of Gatorade in there? Well, let's just say, we'll be having a little chat as we roll the Shop-Vac out to the driveway.