Spoiled

This is my car. It sparkles. It shines. It is clean inside and out. Even the tires shine.

I did not wash, wipe or vacuum one square inch to get it that way. I'm the one with carpal tunnel, remember. I am not allowed to clean because that would mean using my fingers, hands and wrists. That would be very very bad and my OT would not be happy.

Those two lovely men were a gift. They came to me. They brought a trailer filled with lovely cleaning juices and magical potions. (For the car, people; what would I do with car shampoo, wax and Armor-all? No, wait, don't answer.) They had their work cut out for them and worked for well over an hour removing dirt, dust, garden soil, rock chips, dried soccer grass, pollen, and a year of puppy.

It's called Detailing (courtesy of last year's morning class) and I love it.