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.