I’ve heard that the eyes are the windows to the soul. That could be true, but I think that the condition of ones car says a lot about about his or her personality. Right now, mine says that I am a complete slob.
We bought my Ford Freestyle used a few months ago. It was cuter than a bug’s ear, with low mileage and a pristine interior. The elderly woman who owned it thought of everything, including a bug shield. I loved it right away and happily drove off with it, vowing to keep it as pretty as the previous owner left it. Last night, while searching for a book that I cannot locate (yes, librarians misplace books too), I found a sticky substance all over the consoles, dead french fries under Youngest Son’s seat, and a plethora of other things that don’t belong in a car. Not to mention dirty carpets and a general feeling of grime permeating the entire vehicle.
What happened here? Where is that cute, clean car that I had two months ago? I guess that I could tell my kids that they are not allowed to eat in the car, wear dirty shoes or touch anything and that would take care of some of the problem. Or, maybe I could just embrace the chaos and just vow to clean it up more often. After all, life’s too short to always have a pristine car.