Tuesday, September 16, 2014

..But is it convenient?

"...but is it convenient?"
 
I ask myself this a lot. It's kinda a requirement to constantly consider this while making any decision when you are endlessly dealing with little people who want absolutely nothing to do with helping you successfully complete your daily and/or life goals. I love my kids more than Christmas (that's serious for me), but 'convenient', they are not.
 
I've gotten my car washed at the same gas station for years. Not my first choice of car washes, but it's right near my house, and in the same parking lot as my gym, so you know, convenience, because waiting in a candy and slushee-filled waiting area with a five- and a three-year- old at any other car wash is the worst thing that's ever happened in my entire life, and dropping off my car, bringing the hooligans to the gym's day care so I can work out, and coming back doesn't suck quite as bad.  
 
That said, they're not that great at their job. And I'm certain the combined IQ of all seven of the car-washing employees is 37, but I can drop it off, go work out, and come back to a sort-of cleaner vehicle and not deal with candy-tantrums. Cantrums? I love making up words SO MUCH. 
 
Anyway, on one particular day a few years back, I reluctantly handed over my car keys to a Quasimodo-esque human, and when he pulled my car through the automatic carwash, both windshield wipers snapped clean off my car because he didn't remember to put them back down after he wiped the windshield. So cute.
 
I happened to watch it happen, and demanded they replace the wipers, which I had to go pick up from an auto parts store, and I wasted a good part of my day, and they paid for them. And they suck. And whatever.
 
But, believe it or not, I STILL use that carwash. So, again, convenience wins.
 
On a side note... the topic of 'convenience' popped into my head again yesterday as I searched Amazon in hopes of finding a gender specific car seat for Landon so my kids would stop fighting over their designated unisex seats. I thought, "it would certainly be convenient to have a boy-themed seat and a girl-themed seat..."
 
Then I found this.
 
 
 
"...but is it convenient?" NO. You know what? I'm sorry, but that right there is a rapist pedophile turtle. 1% off (was it really necessary to do the whole "slashed-price" thing...) in exchange for a lifetime of horrific nightmares? What are his hands intending to hold?! Why does he look like he wants to eat my fingernails?! What is that dangling flaccid strap situation all about?! Apparently at least 30 people, according to the number of reviews, own this little-boy-tushy-bait, and I'm willing to bet those 30 seats are strapped into unmarked white vans being driven by greasy men wearing nothing but long raincoats all across the nation.
 
So watch out for that.
 
Anyway, as you may know, this new school year has afforded me two half-days to myself thanks to my kids now being in preschool and Kindergarten. Today was my first half-day of the week-- three hours to skip through Target or go to the gym without a childcare appointment or take a nap or go grocery shopping. I did every afore-mentioned thing today besides take a nap, which was the only thing I really wanted to do, and decided to drop my car at my uber-convenient car wash while I took a spin class.
 
After my class I picked up my car which they kindly parked for me and one of the employees even reminded me to hold onto my receipt because "it might rain tomorrow" and they'd be happy to clean the car for me again, it's their policy.
 
Boy, that was nice of him. I'm such an asshole. Whyyyy do I judge everyone? Yeah, he looks like a moron, but he's a thoughtful moron. Get it together, Sofia.
 
My three hours are up and it's time to pick up my son from preschool. I consider what a lovely, productive, easygoing morning I've had and feel my ever-pulsating anxiety begin to subside bit by bit while I drive down the street. Then I hear a rattling sound. Is it in the glove compartment?! No. The cupholder?? No. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SOUND?!
 
I'm punching the dashboard and shaking my steering wheel, then go to flick my windshield wipers, in hopes that I might loosen whatever it is that is causing my present craziness, and I notice that MY WINDSHIELD WIPERS ARE GONE.
 
Just two, sad, mechanical stubs swoosh back at forth, as if literally waving "bye bye" to my sanity.
 
I picked up Landon, drive right back to my favorite car wash, ask to speak to the manager, and he comes out of the building with my wipers in hand.
 
I am livid, demanding an explanation as to why a part of my car is in his hand and not attached to my vehicle. Swear to god, his response was a shoulder shrug. I ask him if this happens all the time or if they just hate me specifically.
 
"...shrug."
 
What. I hate you so much.
 
So, the iiiiidiottttt re-attached my wipers, they work fine, but now I gotta find a new car wash.
 
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I need a nap. And a glass of wine.
 
Which conveeeeniently I do have...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


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