I drive a really small car. By legal description, it’s a subcompact. Meaning, you could park two of them, end-to-end, in one parking space, and almost be sure you won’t lose the rear bumper of one of them.
I like my little car. It’s good on gas mileage, speedy, zips in and out of traffic with ease and it’s the color of a ripe tomato, which make it easy to spot in a crowded parking lot. But there’s been a problem with it lately. My messy little life does not fit inside my car.
I’m one of those people who likes to keep things in my car. Temporarily, you understand. At the moment, there’s a grocery store ad, with the list and coupons still attached (I got most of the items yesterday, but not all of them), a pair of shoes with the receipt for my tailoring order (it’s a little piece of paper, and if I leave it in the shoes, it’s easier to find), a small metal box of safety pins (I run in 5K and 10K races, and I always seem to need extra pins), my nail polish du jour (touch-ups are done on the way to work), swimming gear (fins and board in a mesh bag), umbrella, tissues, a tape measure (not sure what the project was) and receipts (they stay there until The Husband gets annoyed with the sight of them).
I don’t think my car’s interior looks that bad. I don’t eat in my car, though I do enjoy an occasional diet soda or bottled water. There’s no loose lipstick tubes, leaking tubes of lotion or anything squishy or particularly gross in there. Sometimes life happens. And other times, it simply accumulates wherever there’s room.
My New Year’s resolution over the last few years has been to keep a neat home office. I never promised to keep a neat mobile home office, though. That resolution might have to wait until next year.