alpo

I'm feeling accomplished. I washed the car to the accompaniment of apples falling off my neighbor's tree---thump ka-thump thump---like stockbrokers jumping out of windows in October 1929. I would pick them up, but they're so wormy and diseased there's no point---they wouldn't even make good applesauce.

However, now it's about to rain. I don't know why I even bothered to dry the car, except that I like the squishy feel of the fake chamois. I remember a time before fake chamois existed. It was the era that nobody younger than 25 remembers---before CDs and video stores.

The first one I saw was at the state fair, at one of those silly infomercial-style demonstrations of cooking gadgets. The presenter called it the "Amazing Home Towel" and showed how it would hold 10 gazillion times its own weight in water, dried as cleanly as a squeegee, etc. My dad was totally convinced and bought two. They sat in a kitchen drawer for years before being given to Goodwill.