Bad Choice, Mama

Merrick is all into the bad choice.

John: "Merrick! Time for bed!"

Merrick: "Daddy, that is a bad choice. Make good choices like let's stay up fow ice cweam."

Carrots at dinner? Bad choice.

Homework? You know the drill. But add REALLY before bad.

The Matron was reminded of this recurring family anthem early this afternoon when she decided to get gas and wash the van.

Pause here.

Do you live in California? Kansas? Oregon?

If so, you have absolutely NO IDEA what "wash the van' really means. This is MINNESOTA. Today was a typical weather day: wrapping up 8 inches of snow, 19 degrees and a whopping north wind. If you want to walk or drive, you are required to plow through six inches of gray slimy half-snow half pollution half dirt gunk. Which gets on your car.

The Matron washed her van about eight days ago. This afternoon, the vehicle was unrecognizable as such but instead a murky gray-grown palette of slush. Windows and mirrors, unusable. Parking in the lot at her very fine community college, she emerged from meetings to find this swiped into the dirt on her van:

WASH ME.

SLOB

Okay, okay. . . why does her thirteen year old follow her everywhere?

But here's the deal.

The Matron tried very very hard to run her vehicle through the car wash. But here's the deal. The Matron? Brave, true, tried, humble and all get out great --- has a pathological fear of car washes.

Here she is, in the middle of the brush, valve and soap, LOCKED INSIDE, and creating her obituary:

"Local woman crushed in bizarre car wash accident when soaping suddzers went amuck and crashed into the front seat."

The details of the narrative vary but the end result, the same. Death to the Matron. Poor dear (Me, Her) cannot sit through a car wash without panic, sweat and anxiety attack. And that dratted obituary.

"Death by soap brush."

"Woman drowned in car by bizarre car wash breakdown."

"Mother of three crushed when car wash took on a life of its own, plunging massive scrubber brush into front seat of minivan."

"Why don't car wash doors open in emergencies?"

Today, friends, she made a choice.

The van was black. Windows unusable. Car wash? Horrifying.

So when she filled up the car with gas? You know those little pouches of window wash with the squeegee? The Matron decided to wash her van with that. Sorta like the window but the whole vehicle.

Picture this. Heels, good coat, nice hair, tidy. Disgusting everything else falling apart as she's streaking the van with industrial strength wind-shield washer. Mind you, she got under the wheels really well even if it meant exposing thigh (with wind chill).

Between the ruined shoes, the ridicule, the gas station worker running out and asking "are you all right," the streaked ugly van, and the children's horror?

Bad choice.