Car Wash?

OK. My car is dirty. I mean dusty, dirty. With all the road construction around here, I had just given up on having a clean car. I might have rethought that idea, if I had realized just how bad it really was. Unfortunately, I have been living in a state of ignorant bliss. Until today, that is.
I have a patient who is from Brooklyn, New York. She is an interesting person to talk to because you never know if she will be "in the present," if you know what I mean. *wink, wink* One day, she is telling us, in a very heavy Brooklyn- mixed with Jewish- accent that we are meaner than Hitler. (Which she should know, since she survived the holocaust as a child.) Or, she is telling me that I will never get repeat customers if I keep making them exercise that way. (Apparently, in the 20+ years she worked at Bloomingdale's, as a hair dresser, she never made a single client workout. Go figure?!) When she is really mad at me, she starts yelling at me in Yiddish. Well, today, she was in a good mood and apparently in the here and now, because she looked out the window and asked whose car was parked outside. I, stupidly I admit, let her know that it was mine. She said," The dirty one?!" Well, what could I say, but yes? She tilted her head to the side and gave a look of complete disappointment and humorous tolerance and said," I'm not going to say a single word. Not a single thing."
Uhhhh... My car got washed.