At The Car Wash.

Wednesday invariably ends up being busy with lots of little things to do, probably because I sit on my fat arse all day Monday and let things pile up. I have a whacko granny class first thing, I want to say, ” I love them but they drive me nuts’, but I can’t, they just drive me nuts. Before I go I have to get my co op order sorted and leave it in the genkan cos the guy comes before I get back from the class.
So off I toddled, and I got delayed because they are digging up our road again, they do it at this time every year just to justify their budget, they don’t do anything,they don’t fix it in anyway, they just dig it up and then fill it in. So I was running a little late when I realised I hadn’t put the co op order form in the genkan. I had left it on the table. Lucky I went back because I had also, uncharacteristically, locked the door ( so the co op man wouldn’t be able to get in anyway) and left my work bag and my trays for recycling, which I always take back on a Wednesday. Not only was my work in my work bag but my purse too, that would be my British purse, my American purse I had remembered, though of course it has nothing useful in it, unless you count the panadol, 2 lighters and 12 biros.
So I got everything, queued in the line at the roadworks again. Did the class.
Went to Saizeriya for my regularly scheduled wednesday chef’s salad and then decided to go to the car wash.
I have never been before, never really thought I would ever go, never actually given it any thought before whatsoever, but when The Man went to the home centre ( oh maybe he was buying me an early birthday present?) on Sunday, he must have taken the circuitous route via the Nullaboor desert. Car was filthy, covered in sandy dirt.
I was going to give it a once over with the hose before I left for work, but the damn hose had sprung a leak, so when I turned it on it just exploded in my face, lovely, freeaing cold water. So I decided to hell with it, pay the 500 yen!!
So at the car wash, I just want a bog standard water wash, as per my Mazda guy’s instructions on preserving the expensive and I’m sure unnecessary coating on my car. I thought I’d sit in while it swooshed around me, but the young chap said he’d do it and I just had to wait in the little shop. I go in and there are four of the dourest looking old guys I’ve ever seen. My friend Shelly, decides to take that exact moment to send me the funniest texts ever, and I’ll tell you, on the subject of quilting, the gal is quite a wit. So I had to suppress the desire to guffaw very loudly. Now you know when you try to suppress a laugh ( well anything really) it just makes things worse, stronger, more intense? Well I was at that stage, silently borderline hysterical, when the guy came to tell me he was done.
Now, they had, of course, an automatic door, but when I stood on the mat it didn’t open. So, still stifling my hysterics, I stepped to the other side thinking maybe it is the other half of the door that slides and I was missing the sensor, no not the case, right first time, trust your intuition love, and I jumped back, then I realised how silly I looked and nearly let the laughter out.
Meanwhile the guy is outside on the other side of the door holding my change, and I was jumping up and down like an idiot, trying to release the door.Left, right, left ,right jump, like an elephantine ballroom dancer.
Then it hit me!
Oh My God!!!
I am too light for the sensor! I quite frankly no longer weigh enough for Japanese doors!
Hysteria had really built by this point!
As the guy approached the door from outside it opened. So I said, ‘the door wouldn’t open, I must be too light for the sensor’, his face didn’t move a muscle and he said, ‘ no, I don’t think that’s the case’. Well that was it for me, had to flee the scene, cackling, giggling, hoping I didn’t pee myself.
So I had to drive home, howling with laughter inside my car like a raving lunatic. I put it down to my mother always telling us we should be able to entertain ourselves. 😉

14 thoughts on “At The Car Wash.

  1. Hum, perhaps the trouble was your foreign feet. Surely they must be different from Japanese feet. What is this business with American purses and British purses. I assume the American one is PROFESSIONAL. ; )

  2. Oh thank you, I have tears rolling down my face from laughing and I needed it! Nice to know I’m not the only one on the up side of her teenage years who has succumbed to solitary hilarity.

  3. Wish I could ‘like’ that post. Very amusing. You’ll need to go back every week now, just to see if you can have that much fun every time. Perhaps a different station and a different automatic door each week. Just to test the weight slash hair slash feet theories.

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