Changing your windshield wiper blades is one of those tasks that you never get around to even though it isn’t a big deal (and by “you,” I mean “I”).  What really happened is that I forgot about the problem when the sun was out, and driving to the store without windshield wipers seemed like a poor choice in torrential rain.  I was in that cycle of forgetting and remembering at inconvenient times from mid-February until yesterday.  That means six months of hazardous driving under my belt.  Oh yeah.

Yesterday’s combo of drizzle and a sudden urge to fix things finally got me to the store with wipers in mind.  A few minutes of quality time with my car and everything clicked into place (read: 1 minute of reading instructions, 5 minutes of staring at the wiper arms on my car, 5 minutes of extreme frustration because I couldn’t make the two pieces fit together, then a clicking sound and a sigh of relief).

I haven’t gotten to show off my fine automotive handiwork yet, but I did get to take a celebratory dog walk last night in the drizzle.  Nobody was around, so the walk turned into more of a celebratory skip/dance around the block.  If someone did see it, I just hope they were entertained.  I like to think that being ridiculous sometimes brings cheer to other people’s lives.  Also, it prevents my neighbors from asking me to babysit even though I’m the only single female on the block.  Score!

So to sum things up: personal victory over a very small car maintenance issue, happy if slightly strange dog walk, and back to work again on Monday.  And my car’s name is Gus, so he’s the one who got all gussied up, not me.