Hey everybody. I'd like to start off this week with a tiny slice of self-justification. Or maybe it's just guilt and shame in disguise. But anyway. I am an excellent housekeeper. No, really. I am. I won't go to bed at night if the house is a mess or the bathroom isn't clean. And, I keep my office equally neat. It's the only way I can function. Please believe me -- I am not an animal. That being said ...
I cannot, absolutely cannot, keep my car clean. And by "keep my car clean," I mean stave off the interior's resemblance to an archeological dig, boasting layer upon layer of artifacts illuminating the life of an American small town reporter, circa 2011. The place is a disaster on wheels.
I try, I really do. But somehow it just happens -- I've got it all cleaned out and under control, and then I turn around and there's no room for anyone but me to sit. So I've just come to grips with it -- I'm a car slob. It's shameful and embarrassing, but there you have it.
This vexes The Police considerably, especially when he has to employ the services of a backhoe driver just to get into my passenger seat for a ride across town. But I've decided that I can't be bothered with the guilt any longer. If he wants the luxury of a tidy car, he can just drive his own. So there, my beloved, you have it.
But I have gone to considerable lengths to provide you with entertainment this weekend -- put on work gloves and boots (just kidding), had the governor declare our office parking lot as a state of emergency, and went in. All to bring you this -- The Things Found In My Car, December 2011:
-- A large cranberry juice from Sonic, mostly empty.
-- A denim jacket
-- A Christmas gift bag with a kitten on it, containing unopened gifts from my grandmother
-- Two house plants (yes, you read that right), both still alive and kicking -- an ivy and a bonsai tree
-- An umbrella
-- Three of The Police's tennis shoes, two of which are a pair and one of which is all alone and lonely
-- A case of bottled water
-- Approximately 52 empty water bottles
-- A pillow sham that matches my bedspread (yep, I've been looking for that)
-- Assorted tiny Christmas gift bags
-- An embarrassing number of empty Sonic bags
-- A tub of green superfood powder (I'm hoping this negates all the Sonic)
-- Two of The Police's shirts, both plaid (homebody has a lot of plaid -- but he makes it look good)
-- A stack of thank-you notes and envelopes I had printed after our wedding (I really have no idea where these came from -- WHY are they in my car?)
-- Several light switch plate covers
-- A copy of the movie "Elf" (SAANNTAAA!! I KNOW HIM!!)
-- A lot of Kleenex, both used and unused. I am aware of the grossness, but you have to cut me a break, I sneeze a lot.
-- An empty hair gel bottle.
-- A small bag full of The Police's socks and a Downy ball. How ironic.
-- Three more coats, two of mine and one of The Police's
-- A lone tank top
-- An empty Walmart bag
-- An orange folder, also empty
-- A framed photo of The Police's dad (RIP and we love you).
-- A box of Lemon Zest Luna Bars
-- A yellow headband with a flower, which is falling off
-- A really ugly multi-colored fuzzy scarf
-- Two hats of the "pom pom on top, strings hanging down the side" variety
-- A towel
-- A container of glass cleaning wipes (these are because my dog Bentley rides with me to the gym, and he likes to lick my windshield -- I don't want to know why).
-- A pair of gray suede boots
-- A sheet, queen size, with ink stains on it. Once again, I have no idea.
-- An empty notebook that I considered too flowery to use in my professional capacity
-- A collection of art sticker books (Tiffany glass, Japanese flowers and birds, Degas and Boticelli)
-- An old wallet
-- A copy of the book "Stonehenge" on CD
-- A dry erase board
-- Two old pairs of sunglasses, worn and discarded by The Police
-- Multiple bottles of assorted vitamins
-- An old purse, still full of who knows what
And, that, my friends, is true talk. I wish it wasn't, but it is. Peace out.
sharris@blythevillecourier.com