Hello. My name is Cindy and I am a procrastinator.
Procrastinators never do today what can be put off until tomorrow. We are motivated only by two things; pain and fear. I experienced both when I went to get something out of the van; pain when a big book slipped out and landed on my foot and fear, when I was overcome by an unidentifiable something fetid and realized that, ready or not, it was finally time to perform mini-van detail.
Hello. My name is Cindy and I am a procrastinator.
Procrastinators never do today what can be put off until tomorrow. We are motivated only by two things; pain and fear. I experienced both when I went to get something out of the van; pain when a big book slipped out and landed on my foot and fear, when I was overcome by an unidentifiable something fetid and realized that, ready or not, it was finally time to perform mini-van detail.
It has been on my list of things to do for 5 months. 6 months ago, when I last cleaned the van I promised myself that I would never, ever let it get that bad again and I’d be religious, absolutely resolute, about cleaning it monthly. There would be no eating or drinking in the van. If you entered the van with an object, you would exit the van with said object. That was my rule. I even kept baby wipes in the van; no, not the homemade ones, real Pampers baby wipes to clean fingers and occasionally wipe down the vinyl. It started out so good. The whole family loved the fresh clean van and fully cooperated with the plan.
Then came the second day, and the: “Mom, I’m hungry. I’m starving. I’m thirsty! I want a snack. Please, please, please!!!”
Aw, crap. “Here, boys, have some ice cream. BUT DON’T LET IT DRIP!”
Well, you know the story. Soon the whole family was eating in the van. Crackers, ice-cream, cookies, 2 all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions and sesame seed buns. Before I knew it, 6 months had gone by and as I came out of my fast-food stupor I saw that the van was again incubating something nefarious. And here it was, a giant Petri dish on wheels spawning new life forms in our very driveway.
Nay, this van was not just untidy. I opened the door and my senses were accosted by the smell of something like rotting milk. We don’t drink milk so, I wondered, was it broccoli that I forgot to bring in from the grocery store? Was it really dirty socks? Perhaps it was a partial cup of long-spent ice-cream sundae? Yes! It was all of them! In this Texas heat!
Frustrated, I marched back into the house. I sat the boys in front of the Game Cube with instructions that I’d be outside cleaning the car and they were welcome to come out and play but they were not to get wild in the house. I filled a bucket with hot water and detergent, got the vacuum and rags and donned my Playtex Living Gloves; this job would require full metal.
After about a ½ hour’s work, I had accumulated 2 medium sized boxes of junk, and 3 cubic feet of trash. Then, I moved to the back seats. This was where the real stench was located. More junk, more trash. Okay, I’m seeing the carpet. Eeewww! The carpet is sticky! What’s this? Chocolate? Eeewww! Hmmm. So this is what a petrified banana looks like!
It took me 3 ½ hours to do the INSIDE of the van. As I was giving the van a final once-over I noticed that the ceiling was still speckled with spots of who knows what kind of potable eruption. Screw it. I’m done until next month.
Yes, next month. It’s on my calendar. No drinking, no eating, no leaving your belongings behind in the mini-van. This time I MEAN IT!