I took a tree to the car wash today.
Three years worth of dust weighed down the leaves of silk ficus beside my bed, and the dirty leaves weighed me down. I didn't have time to wash each leaf by hand, so I took off Paula's top and packed the tree into her back seat.
Ten minutes and four quarters later, the tree was clean, I felt lighter, and the people who drove by had a good story to tell at dinner.
Sometimes I wonder why making a fool of myself never bothers me. Maybe I'm just used to it.