I went through a car wash today. I got dirty jeans climbing into the car, which seemed like some kinda sign. I got the superdeluxe rainbow foam wash. Tristan used to be morbidly terrified of car washes, and I don’t seem to have gotten back in the habit. Which is pathetic: he is 5. When I came out of Asda, I had to start looking at all of the license plates (number plates). Turns out my car is blue-grey when it is clean. Another sign that I’d postponed washing for too long: I thought the (decidedly unjazzy) Jazz was grey-brown.
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