When I sat down to write today, I started to vent about the constant natural disaster that is my mini-van. As I searched for the proper adjectives to describe the disgusting mess, I realized it was so bad that I couldn’t do it justice. So I closed my computer and headed to the garage. It was time to face the beast.
It was actually a perfect day for the job. Even though it was raining, it felt great to open the garage door to keep myself cool with the fresh, brisk air. I turned on Channel 95.5 and sang along to Detroit’s best hits to entertain myself. As I scrubbed the filthy, winter-stained leather with a rag wet from a bucketful of water and OxyClean, the beats of Justin Timberlake, Rhianna, Bruno Mars, Pink, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis and others did the trick to energize me through the two hour project.
Our kids were 4, 4 and 6 when we got this van, so it’s been through the wringer. 72,000 miles and 4 Michigan winters later, it will never again shine or sparkle. “Clean enough” was the best outcome I could hope for, no matter how hard I scrubbed. Unfortunately the rain prevented me from spraying off the soiled and sticky grooved rubber floormats, but other than that I was mostly satisfied with the results. It wasn’t a fun job by any means, especially when I stepped my foot down into the dirty bucket of water, but I felt very productive upon finishing the task.
When I finally decided to call it quits, I pushed the power button to close the endgate. I was confused when it remained open, but didn’t think too much of it. I reached up and shut it manually, then went to close the side slider door. Again, the power button didn’t work. I turned the key off to silence the radio so I could figure out why the power doors weren’t responding.
Oh crap. The key. It had been in the “ACC” position (whatever that means) for the last two hours so I could whistle while I worked. I cringed with leery anticipation as I slowly turned it to the right to “START.” When the engine made a sick clicking sound instead of rolling over, I can’t say that I was surprised. Disappointed? Yes – but not surprised. For good measure, I tried one more time. Still nothing. My musical entertainment had killed the battery.
So, naturally, I did what any smart, spoiled wife would do – I chose to ignore the jumper cables that I had just placed back in the trunk, and retrieved the keys to our third car. I then left to go pick the kids up from school.
Craig will get home tonight around 8:30. When he does, I’ll break the news with a sheepish grin. He’ll take a deep breath of annoyance and roll his eyes. Then he’ll go out and jump-start the van back to life without complaint, because he won’t be able to deny his relief that it was me who faced the beast instead of he.