Do you want to feel better about your own life? Either because you can tell yourself, “Well, at least I’m not that bad” or because, after reading this, you’ll know you’re not alone? Then, dear reader, proceed by all means. But be forewarned. This post contains material that is inappropriate for the fainthearted.
Yes, I’m talking about the interior of my car. The family car. For three messy, absent-minded, cluttering, toy-ridden children. And now (drumroll please) I present to you the weekly inventory of the automotive horror that lurks within:
–two school directories, two school name signs, and some directions from last month to a basketball game lodged in the driver’s side pocket
–One half-empty water bottle. Approximate archeologic age: two weeks
–One tote bag containing baby wipes, nappies, smashed graham crackers, a child’s fleece jacket, and dirty socks
–One plastic Ziplock bag filled with crayons and paper
–a strange, whitish scum in the center console cupholder that doesn’t smell or anything but doesn’t look that healthy, either, and which is proving resistant to cleaning
–One school tote bag with a contraband, stuffed animal in it, a week’s worth of crushed school papers, and an overdue library book that we thought we lost
–two plastic dinosaurs, one of which used to paddle its flippers but doesn’t anymore
–more dirty socks
–another fleece jacket and a down vest
–a pair of Crocs, one flip flop, and a pair of sparkly party shoes
–A singing, holiday Mickey Mouse that never seems to break no matter what we do
–crumbs, lots and lots of crumbs, or maybe it’s sand, who really knows?
Where does the other shoe always go? What really happens to those little toys that disappear under the seats, and how do you get stickers off a window? Perhaps before everyone leaves for college I will unravel these enduring mysteries, and if I do, I’ll be sure to get back to you. In the meantime, I plan on trying to drive my husband’s car as much as humanly possible. And if you know the answers to any of the above questions, please, don’t be shy about sharing. In my book, it would qualify you for a Nobel prize, a MacArthur genius grant, and the Congressional Medal of Honor, all rolled into one.
9 Replies to “The Horror, the horror by Deb Tiffany”
Okay, first I LOVE that you call them nappies! We do too (or did – no need for them now!) and I think I refer to them that way in my book and wasn’t sure if Americans would know I was talking about diapers!
Second, I’d love to tell you that the junk in the car will ease up when the kids get older, but the bad news is – it won’t. It just changes. My car is now littered with pieces, parts, chargers of electronic games, water/juice/soda bottles in various stages of emptiness (or fullness – depending on whether you’re an optimist or pessimist, I suppose), candy and junk food wrappers, bits of candy and junk food, hats, gloves, jackets, jumper cables, blankets, those fold up sporting event chairs and the equipment for whatever season we’re in . . .
My husband’s car, however, is suspiciously clean!
If I ever move to the suburbs, I know what horror awaits me…
Meanwhile, we live among piles of toys and clutter in our small NY apartment . I just wish I could park it in a car somewhere!
Tiffany, you’ve seen the inside of my van! Mine’s also got a dog leash and copious amounts of white dog hair.
I’m the queen of messy car interiors! I totally sympathize. My husband will get in my car and just marvel at the wide variety of unlikely junk I have all over the place.
Here’s a golden entrepreneurial idea: Mighty Maids for Vehicles!
Larramie, you could be onto something really smart there….Glad some other of you out there have messy cars, too! Makes me feel a little better.
I consider the trunk of my car as an extra storage closet…and the seat next to the drivers seat, sort of an office/mail room. The back seat, well, whatever can wait to come into the house (sometimes for days or weeks) after I shop. Luckily, when my car has visitors, I can stash everything into the “storage closet”. Right now the storage closet has laundry to be taken, which will be replaced by laundry picked up…some bottles of windshield wiper fluid, an expensive leather coat with a mink color which will probably never be repaired but has been happily living in my trunk for a year, some “art” that never sold at any flea market I was part of, a couple of brand new blouses that did not fit, and I never took back…some craft projects that I never sold…ummm, some used napkins from Dunkin’ Donuts that I have forgotten to put in the trash, and I fear to look further.
A few weeks ago, I put in some “Empty Beer Bottles”…that weren’t all so empty…and you guessed it…my car smelled like a “beer fest” for quite a while…I drove very carefully until the smell evaporated, because I just didn’t know how I would explain the smell, should I be stopped by the Delaware State Police.
Everyday, I mean to clean out the trunk…take the coat to be fixed, get rid of the other stuff…donate it or something, I also mean to empty the drier, file my bills, finish my hugh mosaic project (or at least put in 100 more tiny pieces), open yesterdays’ mail, but I am so busy reading all your books, now reading Johns’, and what is more important? I leave it up to you.
T:…..now I understand why you needed to move away from East Finchley…..(not!). Ax
Hi Andrew. Sorry to say that the state of my car would no doubt be the same if I were on British soil. But the house is looking nice! My book launches over there in June from Hoddard. Hope you’re doing well. T.
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