duck-shaped pain

It actually took a few days for me to notice they were gone. Then, all of a sudden, I noticed that everything was quiet and there weren't a jillion cars and babies in the street.

All good and decent things come to an end, and today they were back. One moment, it's quiet and the next, cars and dogs and children and bikes are everywhere.

The first thing they do when they get back is not unpack, like you or I might do, but wash the car. These people wash their cars every single day. It wasn't even dirty when they drove in, but four or five road-weary adults got out of the car all of a sudden and started scrubbing.

Sometimes, I've thought about parking my car in their driveway just to see if they'd wash it out of habit.

My dad likes to get his car dirty and drive by their house reaaaaaaaaal slow.

I always wonder what the inside of their house looks like. For some reason, I always imagine that it's really filthy, although I have nothing to base this on. After all, your house reflects who you really are and your car reflects who you really want to be. That's what I was told once, by some random, now-forgotten college professor. I don't know if I believe it, or rather, don't want to believe it, since I can think of things in this life I'd rather be than a Honda Civic. [1]

Advice from me to you: don't buy a black car. On those days where it gets to 105 degrees, with less than 5 percent humidity, you don't want to be anywhere near a black car. I had to get in mine today, and I haven't recovered yet. I turned on the a/c when I got in the car, and by the time I got to Target, 10 miles away, it still wasn't cold.

I used to have a grill over the back window of my car which blocked the sun from coming in, yet which still allowed you to see out. It was the unfortunate casualty of a big Oregon windstorm, which blew it off and managed to carry it five blocks away. I only found it because I nearly hit it with the car the next day. Sadly, it was beyond repair. I could use it now.

Tomorrow, I get to be an Appliance Salesperson for a week or so. I told my aunt I'd help out in her shop for a few days, back when I had no work prospects whatsover. Now I have three, but I said I'd still work in the shop. I did get my washer fixed for free, you know.

I know nothing about appliances or about the shop, but I gues that's okay. My aunt said she mostly wanted me to be there so she wouldn't have to be alone in the shop while all her employees are on vacation. I hope that's what she wants, because I can't really see myself being anything other than useless here.

They do get some crackpot customers, though. Maybe there'll be interesting stories developing.

When the store first opened, they got some interesting people coming in to talk or ask for jobs. One memorable visitor was this old guy who used to ride his bike all up and down North Avenue. Everyone knew him, because he had a sign on his bike which read "Volunteer Fire Department," and he was always very concerned about fires and firefighting in general. I once saw him riding down the street when a firetruck came by, and he got completely over-excited and took off down the street chasing the truck. He seems like the type who always wanted to be a firetruck when he grew up, and this is his way of fulfilling that dream. [2]

I haven't seen him for awhile, so I wonder if he's still around. Not like we don't have any other "interesting" folks around, it's just that he stood out more than the rest.

Uninteresting Fact: I was looking at my stats tonight, sorted by time zone, and I was surprised to find that I get the least amount of visitors from my own time zone (Mountain). I know there's some small amount of self-loathing that comes from being in the Mountain Time Zone -- I mean, nothing's ever broadcast live there and some people forget it exists -- but, hey, it's okay. It's okay to come out of your shell and read the happy words. Really.

[1] Better, I guess than the previous car, a crappy Ford Tempo. Which was only good, in retrospect, because it blew my first car out of the water, a 1979 Ford Fiesta with no turn signals or heater. It was nicknamed The Frigidaire by many who had to endure a ride in it.