Here's the thing. I have spent most of my adult life taking abuse about my dirt-bag car. Really...I should be used to it by now. My family has been making jokes about my messy car for as long as I can remember.
But I take all the jabs with a grain of salt -- and obviously, I don't think my worth is tied to the neatness of my car. It simply doesn't matter to me. I have WAY BETTER things to do than clean my car. I could be reading a book, or getting a pedicure, or trying to solve the issue of world peace or hunger in Appalachia..
Earlier in the summer -- my cousin Linda and I went out for lunch, and were making a few stops around town...(she would NEVER care what my car looked like..).
|I had to move four books on tape, my purse, a bag of Warren's toys, two sweaters and a bag of fries to make a place for Linda to sit in the passenger seat. The back seat, of course, is out of the question because it always has two car seats|
|We pulled into a new building...with a large parking lot...|
The back seat was piled to the roof with hoarder-stuff...papers, egg cartons, bags and bags...it looked like a jam-packed rolling dumpster....I was beyond thrilled...
|FINALLY!! Somebody I can feel superior to!! I THOUGHT I WOULD NEVER EXPERIENCE THIS MOMENT...|
Hummm...I AM USUALLY THE ONE performing this service for other people...right??...
So, yeah -- you're welcome!!