But I don't do windows

If you had been driving behind me yesterday afternoon, you would have noticed that at every red light I opened my window and stuck out my arm to spray the front windshield with window cleaner. You wouldn't see the same thing today, though, because this morning I found my handy bottle of window cleaner frozen solid.

This is the problem with driving a 15-year-old car: some parts are more reliable than others. I can open the driver's side window but not the one on the passenger's side; I can adjust the outside mirrors electronically but I can't open the sun roof (not that I want to with temperatures in the single digits). The pump that sprays window-cleaner doesn't work but the seat-warmers do, which was a good thing this morning because I was relying on the seat-warmer to thaw out the window cleaner so I could clean all that winter gunk and grime off my front windshield. Visibility is kind of important, especially up front.

And let's not even talk about the rear windshield. I can spray the front windshield and let the wipers wipe off all the gunk, but the rear wiper makes no contact with the windshield, which is distinctly unhelpful. Hence the roll of paper towels in the back seat. Every time I park, I get out the spray bottle and paper towels and smear that sludgy road salt and grime and gunk all over the glass.

But what can I do with frozen window cleaner? It sits on the passenger seat like a pampered pet, soaking in the warmth and refusing to lift a finger to help me. Utterly worthless--unless I can find a way to repurpose the bottle. Seal-clubbing, anyone? Need any windows smashed? Maybe I could call it a nutcracker and give it to someone for Christmas. The festive green fluid glows with a jewel-like clarity when frozen. It looks positively ornamental.

But not useful. No, not at all. In fact, if you see me sticking my arm out in traffic today, assume that I'm trying to hail a cab--preferably one with clean windows.