To keep these to myself would be selfish

If I could string together certain moments of my life, written just so, I might have a funny movie. Well funny to me.
On their own they don't have much narrative quality to them, but I don't want them to go to waste.
Here's a recent one:
Last Sunday I set a container with about two inches of milk in it on top of my car as I unlocked my car. Right as I got the door open, the wind blew the cup over and onto the backseat window of my car. I think I said something like "ohhh miillk, ohhh."
Am I clean? No. I let it dry on there.
Then later in the week, I had a glass with a few inches of watery, warm lemonade in my cup holder. As I was about to dump it out onto the concrete, I thought "maybe it will wash off the milk."
It didn't. It just made more smeared marks down the side of my car.
Did any of that spur me to wash my car?
Absolutely not.
It's all still on there

Another one:
I've had this fugitive pile of laundry hanging around for months. Not fugitive in that it's hiding. On the contrary, I put in plain sight, hoping day after day, that the me-of-tomorrow will get sick of looking at it and do something about it. But, it's a tricky pile, you see. It's a bunch of winter clothes and clothes that I plan to donate. All dirty, and there is absolutely no demand for them to get clean. So as i was trying to clean the house on Tuesday I dumped the pile in the middle of the kitchen floor, with the idea that "That'll irritate me enough to sort and wash them."
No one should be surprised that that pile stayed there for several days.
One of those days I cooked a bowl in the microwave long enough to make it like magma to the touch. There were tea towels hanging from the oven and oven mits in the drawer across the kitchen.
But I used a sock.
A dirty tube sock from the pile.

More nuggets to come. They happen all the time.