Tall Husband and I each had a BMW Z3 roadster. Mine was silver and his was red. We looked quite cool in them, with our blond hair blowing in the wind as we sped around the city.
Every Saturday we hand washed our Z's in the driveway, followed by a thorough vacuuming of the interiors. I was doing my usual vacuum routine, all scrunched up and contorted so as to reach all the tight places. I had just crawled backward out of my roadster and was stretching my back, when a realization hit me like a bolt of lightening.
Tall Husband was busily drying off his roadster when I said to him, "I just realized something that will embarrass and shame us both."
"Shoot," he said.
"For some time now, we've been killing ourselves vacuuming inside our tiny cars, when we could have just put the tops down for easy access."
Indeed, Tall Husband looked like he had been shot, "Don't tell anyone about this."
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