Every once in a while a certain type of emotional blues creates the perfect head space to organize and or clean. The other day I decided to take the morbid focus off myself by completely cleaning my car inside and out.
Still relatively new to car culture, I don't give a shit about this silver pod that gets me to and from work. The problem was I suddenly realized I was driving a 2002 gas powered dumpster.
At my local car wash, I pull into the vacuum area that in the past I had relegated to people with way too much free time and proceed to yank everything but the seats out onto the pavement.
I'm in the zone now, down on my hands and knees on the ground, vacuuming the floor mats. Suddenly, breaking my concentration is a pigeon bravely eating some saltine crumbs inches in front of the mat. I'm eye to eye with this weird little creature. I move myself a bit towards it and it doesn't move except to glance up at me through these milky white eyes. Finally I yell---GET OUT OF HERE, and lift my arm to scare it off. The next thing I know the fucking bird is stuck to the end of the vacuum that I'm holding.
I quickly start shaking the shit out of the vacuum but it won't come loose. As you probably know there is no OFF switch on these things.
The bird is flapping its wings like crazy. Its making this horrible sound that is part high pitched scream and part out of shape wheezing. Finally with two hands on the nozzle I lift it over my head and with all my might I swing it down to the ground. It comes loose with a thud and just lies there. Fuck.
As feathers and bird dirt drift slowly to the ground I quickly glance around to see if anyone has witnessed this nightmare. I'm cool.
Actually, I'm not. I still feel totally fucked up when I think about it.