The Smell of Oil

While this has absolutely nothing to do with books or art or writing as of yet--although I'm never one to discredit life experiences as building into great tails or art, today I learned how to change the oil in my car. For those of you who know me, I'd like to point out that in the course of my learning, yes, I DID participate. Actually, I changed the oil in three cars today through the instruction of my dad who having had three girls was probably thrilled at the bonding experience of having one girl home and interested in learning such a skill. So barefooted and clothed in some boxers with paint from when I painted my first studio, and an old shirt of Dad's I squeezed myself under the hood of not one, but three cars and twisted the filters off, drained the barrels, checked the dip sticks, rubbed smeared and coated my face and arms in oil... it was grand.
Perhaps even more exciting was the fact that my car now looks like new after having been washed down (it looked like it had mold growing on the exterior due to sitting under an oak tree for awhile). Then my dad and I cleaned, moved my sisters things to storage, washed interior windows and vacuumed. I don't know what was more interesting to discover.. the keys to my friend's old sold truck or wall hooks from my sister's dorm room under the front seat. I believe what just occurred was called "detailing". So, my car is officially detailed. Next up is my room.