scheherazade_79
Steamy
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2003
- Posts
- 9,677
My last couple of days have been horribly hectic, which has been annoying because I’m technically ‘on holiday’ at the moment. It’s seemed that everywhere I go, I’m given half a dozen other errands to do while I’m out, and I have a hard enough time remembering my own stuff let alone lots of other people’s as well. Saying that, I didn’t do too badly and got away with only a couple of lectures about having my head in the clouds.
Last night was supposed to be some serious Me Time. We’d had visitors all day and I’d been the model daughter, doing the dishes, being sociable and playing X-Box games with a hyperactive 7 year old. On top of that, I’d had to leave halfway through the day to collect a friend from the station and drive him back to his house. I was due to meet that friend at 8.30, so left the house at 7.50 with plans of a leisurely smoke in the park, followed by an amble over to his house.
As I opened the car door, I was bowled over by a slightly sicky alcoholic smell. Almost immediately my eyes fell on an orange splash over the back of the passenger seat, which (apart from the colour) looked identical to bird shit. I don’t have a sun roof for a bird to shit through, so for a while the situation really confused me. Then I noticed more splashes over the seat – the same lurid orange splodges that were starting to turn my stomach.
The last person to sit in that seat had been Richard, the friend I’d picked up from the station. Trustingly, I concluded that he must have sat in something on the train and somehow wiped it onto the seat. But that didn’t account for the splashes up the ceiling, or the large bilious puddle on the passenger side floor.
I was stumped. I live in a quiet neighbourhood and don’t always lock my car when it’s parked in the drive. After a while this hideous cut-scene began playing in my mind. What if some drunk had been walking by during the day and, in a fit of mischievous malice, had decided to go into my car to throw his guts back? It didn’t bear thinking about, and fortunately it was only seconds later that I saw the real culprit.
It was a bottle of passion fruit and mango smoothie. I’d bought it in a fit of extravagance during a trip to the supermarket four days earlier. I’d had a couple of sips, but somehow forgotten about it – I think I was going to save it for when I went to the beach that evening – and it had exploded its contents all over my car. Luckily it wasn’t a glass bottle – just a plastic one that blew its top. But it took me ages and ages and ages to clean the buggering stuff up!
I was there for a good half an hour with a wet floor cloth and a bucket of water, scrubbing, rinsing, wiping until the bloody cows came home. Not a happy bunny – but I had to laugh when I saw the name of the smoothie. It was called “Innocent”…
Last night was supposed to be some serious Me Time. We’d had visitors all day and I’d been the model daughter, doing the dishes, being sociable and playing X-Box games with a hyperactive 7 year old. On top of that, I’d had to leave halfway through the day to collect a friend from the station and drive him back to his house. I was due to meet that friend at 8.30, so left the house at 7.50 with plans of a leisurely smoke in the park, followed by an amble over to his house.
As I opened the car door, I was bowled over by a slightly sicky alcoholic smell. Almost immediately my eyes fell on an orange splash over the back of the passenger seat, which (apart from the colour) looked identical to bird shit. I don’t have a sun roof for a bird to shit through, so for a while the situation really confused me. Then I noticed more splashes over the seat – the same lurid orange splodges that were starting to turn my stomach.
The last person to sit in that seat had been Richard, the friend I’d picked up from the station. Trustingly, I concluded that he must have sat in something on the train and somehow wiped it onto the seat. But that didn’t account for the splashes up the ceiling, or the large bilious puddle on the passenger side floor.
I was stumped. I live in a quiet neighbourhood and don’t always lock my car when it’s parked in the drive. After a while this hideous cut-scene began playing in my mind. What if some drunk had been walking by during the day and, in a fit of mischievous malice, had decided to go into my car to throw his guts back? It didn’t bear thinking about, and fortunately it was only seconds later that I saw the real culprit.
It was a bottle of passion fruit and mango smoothie. I’d bought it in a fit of extravagance during a trip to the supermarket four days earlier. I’d had a couple of sips, but somehow forgotten about it – I think I was going to save it for when I went to the beach that evening – and it had exploded its contents all over my car. Luckily it wasn’t a glass bottle – just a plastic one that blew its top. But it took me ages and ages and ages to clean the buggering stuff up!
I was there for a good half an hour with a wet floor cloth and a bucket of water, scrubbing, rinsing, wiping until the bloody cows came home. Not a happy bunny – but I had to laugh when I saw the name of the smoothie. It was called “Innocent”…
