It's a cold winters day. About 40 degrees outside, wind chill a little over 35 degrees. Its also darkening outside; the angry grey sky invites nothing but gloom and despair. And the forecast calls for rain. It is on this horrid day that I am charged with a most unfortunate task.
Here I am, studiously writing personal statements for graduate school, huddled up in my blanket seeking warmth within its fleece confines when I hear my dad yell for me to come downstairs.
These occurrences rarely bring me joy and this time was no different.
He pulls out a bucket and soap and hands it to me with two rags and ushers me into the garage. I await with trepidation.
He tells me its going to rain soon.
And he wants me to soap up the car before it does.