Shhhh' It Happens. Twenty Years Later Before a Commencement Talk the Birds Keep Doing their Do Upon Me. This Time, My Car (Oh, & Then There's My Dad)

I knew on Saturday that the birds bombed my car. I have no idea why they hit my car on both sides, when there are no trees for them to branch upon. Yet, plagued Katniss-Never-Green-No-More was attacked. Cynde said, "you should get it washed," but after picking her up at the hospital the car wash by her house was closed. I learned yesterday it was down. I tried again.

Why? Apparently, while making breakfast, dad went outside to 'clean' my car with a paper towel. When Cynde and Mike visited in the afternoon, they asked what the 'hell' happened to my car. We guess dad washed it with a paper towel, which resulted in smeared bird shit on the sides and cross the windows. I only got a photo of the driver's side. At one point I panicked thinking he went out with soft scrub and wiped down the entire care. Nope. It was absolutely bird shit, dried to look like melted marshmallows dusted across the metal frame.

After fixing a fridge door (another story), I went out to see the car. I rolled my eyes and took Karal for a walk. I needed mental space and fresh air. I returned and took dad with me to get it washed. I told him I was going to make him get out of the car so he could follow me into the wash. He needs a bath, too (and he promised he'd take one). He hasn't. 

It seems cleaning up crap was theme for Sunday, and I'm glad mom was finally getting a hospital room of her own. Nobody likes being in a hospital. 

The car wash did what it needed to do. The crap came off. I came home to cook Dad a dinner and then called cousin Patrick to talk with him, my Aunt Bobbie, and my Uncle Dick. 

Okay. Time to wrap up. Got to get tonight's class ready, in anticipation of just about anything that could happen.