Zippety-doo-dahOkay. I confess. We washed my car last week. In our driveway. At home. In drought-cursed California.

My thinking was simple: we’d been gone a month on vacation, so our water usage declined. No laundry, no toilet flushing, no dishwasher run. There was still the pool and our landscape watering, every third day, but we weren’t likely be over the allotment with the obligatory penalty fee.

Even with jet lag, I am good at calculating.

Cleanliness is next to godliness, as you know. Gospel in our car culture and, after living here for 37 years, we’ve forsaken the winter-ravaged look of the Midwest where we grew up. The grim of several months made me not want to get in my car, and I had places to go, people to see – and not feel abashed about my unkempt car.

Baby Boomer Chickas have ego needs, too. More desperate than our drought situation that had been compounded by our hot flash February.

Though it had been garaged for a month while we vacationed Down Under, my Mini Cooper was a pig. OK, a piglet. It is mini after all.

The beauteous magnesium rims were black dusted, as if it had been garaged in a coal mine for a month; residue from the brakes that plagues every Ultimate Driving Machine. Magnificent braking comes at a price. Especially as needed for a car that begs to go fast and corner on two wheels…

So, despite refraining for 90 days, we fell off the water use wagon and went whole hog. Yeah, we washed my husband’s SUV, too.

BTW, didn’t you love the superbly brave public service-toned Super Bowl ad by Colgate:

I confess, I want my car to be as clean as my teeth. May I come to your house to use your water to accomplish the task next time?