I don't want to.
I don't want to give it back.
I love my (not my) new CarVan. I know it was part of the Test Drive Program for bloggers--influential moms (used to be an oxymoron) if you will.
I know I said I'd give it back on Tuesday. I know they're coming for it. Of course they are. Tomorrow's Monday. Tomorrow night I'll take our stuff out of it. Because Tuesday the valet guys come to get it.
Right? Right.
What are the chances Zach from Matchstick will get the flu and forget to execute the paperwork? Maybe I'll fall through the cracks, or maybe it will be like Oprah and Dodge will say: "Here you go blogging moms! This one's for you! MERRY CHRISTMAS!"
And I would not even sell it to get out of debt.
I would drive it and love it all the days of my life.
When Zach from Matchstick forgets all about me, I can live in my new CarVan. I can continue to play with heated seats and satellite TV and satellite radio and a car that starts while I'm making coffee. And leather seats. And the lady who tells me how to get to all the places I know. And the kids playing Designer World on the TVs. And the right side door that sometimes doesn't close when you press the button, and then you think it's closed and you leave the car open all night long in the driveway... hypothetically speaking.
And tables and swivel chairs. And wireless headphones. And the camera on the bumper that makes sure you don't run over the cats.
The poor cats.
What now?
CiCi and Rudy. Tuesday they are once again in jeopardy.
Do it for the cats, Zach.
Lose my paperwork.
You don't want the cats to die. I know you don't.
please?
meow?
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