My car is covered in worm poop. This happens every spring, but this spring
the worm poop is bad. It's
everywhere. It sticks like barnacles on
things like my recycle bin, the front stoop, the concrete patio, and it has
encrusted my car like dried papier mache.
Car washes do not help -- worm poop laughs at things like
spray jets and scrubbers. I have been
pretending that it's not so bad, but today I cannot see out of the windshield
because worm poop is baked onto it, and my once-white car is brown and green.
Time to deal with the worm poop.
I drive my poopy car to a nearby department store to gather
some supplies. I am tempted not to even
lock my car. Who in their right mind
would break into a shit-smeared vehicle?
For that matter, who in their right mind would be seen driving it? (The answer, of course, is that I am not in
my right mind.) I need big sponges, a
scrub brush, and a shitload (to keep with the poop theme) of Mr. Clean Magic
Erasers.
For anyone unfamiliar with Mr. Clean Magic Erasers, they are
the lazy person's answer to multi-purpose cleaning. Just about the only thing they cannot do is
cure cancer. Actually, they may well
cause it since I've no idea what kinds of chemicals are in the little buggahs,
but here's what I do know -- the damn things work.
I debate going through the car wash to remove residual crap
before I get to the real … crap. I
decide I'm too cheap after buying the cleaning supplies (and seventeen shirts
and a white lace push-up bra, but that's obviously a story for another day) to
pay for a car wash, so I head home and search for my water hose that I am quite
certain resides in my basement.
It doesn't.
I ask the landlord's family if I can borrow their hose,
instead. When I go to grab it, I
discover a huge hole (more like a complete severing) in the line. The oldest son smirks and admits that he ran
over it with the weed whacker. The dad
lends me the hose he uses for work, which also has a hole in it, but I have
enough duct tape to patch it. After
hooking the hose up to the spigot on my side of the main house, I turn the
handle expecting it to work.
It doesn't.
I drag the big-ass industrial hose to the front and other
side of the main house to the water spigot that I know works because the
neighborhood kiddos filled water guns from it the other day and chased me out
of my car and to my front door when I came home from work. The hose no longer reaches my car now that
I've relocated to this other spigot, so I have to move the car down the
driveway and into the sun. Now, this is
probably where I should park it to avoid the trees where the worms reside that
are pooping on my car in the first place, but I'm lazy, and the extra
twenty-foot walk seems like more trouble than it's worth. Besides, I have to fit multiple cars in my
driveway.
I go through five Mr. Clean Magic Erasers and spend two
straight hours scrubbing the pollen and worm poop off of my car, and this is
after rinsing it off with my finger securely over the hose nozzle to create an
old-fashioned power washer. I scrub
scrub scrub then I scrape scrape scrape with my fingernails any lingering
mini-dingleberries, then I brush brush brush what I can, then I scrub scrub
scrub with the Mr. Clean Magic Erasers again.
When I'm done, the standing greenish water areas of my car
have baked back on again because I had to move my car into the sun, so I power
rinse the car again and bring out the mild dish soap, warm water, and big
sponge I bought. I wash the car as
quickly as I can so that the suds don't bake on, then rinse the whole car off
three times. I expect the car to still
look … well … shitty.
It doesn't.
It almost looks clean and it actually appears to be white
again. I should take a picture of it all
done because after I rinse it off, I back it into its regular spot again and
fully expect it to be coated in worm shit in the morning.
I feel so great after getting the car all done that I break
out the large broom that I use to sweep the driveway and patio. I am going to sweep up all the pollen and
worm poop from the concrete and stone stoop and put out some chairs. I said, I'm going to sweep up this … hey …
what the hell. The concrete is all
permanently stained from the adhesive worm shit that has now ruined my entire
outside area. I expect the crap to just
sweep away and go off into oblivion like nature should when confronted with
urban reality.
It doesn't.
Oh well. I've already
spent two hours scrubbing excrement off of my car. I've no intention of becoming Caterpillar
Cinderella, scrubbing scrubbing scrubbing up the worm poop on my hands and
knees like some washer-woman. I'll just
step on the shit all summer now that it's seared onto the pavement like
miniscule barnacle turds. Really makes
my home sound so inviting doesn't it?
It doesn't.
But, at least my car is clean … for now.
