Divisions and Precisions

My car is clean. Nono,

My car is clean. Nono, wait. If you never saw it (and most of you didn't, thank god), you don't understand how momentous this is. Due to trash and belongings from various moves, my little Escort was a one-passenger vehicle, and the one passenger was starting to feel squished. I'm not proud. My car was horrible. But now it's clean. I can fit more than just me in there now.

I'm exhausted. My room's a mess. My finals aren't studied for and my Adrift edits aren't finished. But my car's clean and my parents are happy about it. (No, I'm not kidding. Apparently one of the neighbors asked my stepfather whose garbage-filled car that was.) I'm wondering if a nap would be more productive than trying to slog my way through stuff.

Oh, and I found a bathing suit. Will wonders never cease. I suppose this means now that I have to shave my legs.