As an anxious, list-making person with multiple autoimmune conditions, I am very much a ‘just-in-case’ kind of girl. I do not like to be caught off guard, so I always come prepared.
My handbag is a mini pharmacy, with extra meds and ‘autoimmune supplies’, hair ties, my favorite organic lollipops and mints, a nail file, lip balm, hand sanitizer, tissues, and a pen and pad (I am a writer, after all!), among other things.
My car is no different. The center console mirrors my handbag, and my glove box is stuffed with more of the same.
My trunk, on the other hand, as evolved over time — but it’s never been empty.
When my boys were younger, my trunk was filled with extra sports gear (like mouth guards, athletic cups, and lacrosse balls), first aid stuff (band aids, reusable ice packs, and ace bandages), sideline chairs, stadium seat cushions, stadium blankets, umbrellas, rain gear, sanitizer wipes, trash bags, and an assortment of car-related items.
Now that the boys are out of the house, the sports equipment and stadium gear have been replaced with a stack of reusable grocery bags and a yoga mat. The umbrella and sanitizer wipes are still in there, as is one smaller stadium blanket (because you never know when you’ll need one).
I used to think this was just a ‘me’ thing. But now I think it’s actually a family trait.
My mother is the worst offender. The center console, door pockets, and glove box of her car are all stuffed with enough snack bags, cough drops, water bottles, and tissues to rival a mini mart. Her trunk is filled with an assortment of items she’s either returning, mailing, donating, or throwing away. I honestly don’t know how she fits groceries when she goes food shopping.
I didn’t think my dad was as bad as my mom … Until I cleaned out his car last week.
He, too, had been driving around with a trunk full of items to donate. But luckily for me, he offloaded them before I got to the task at hand. As for the glove box, door pockets, and center console, surprisingly, his collection of crap rivaled both my mother’s and mine.
Here’s what I found (in no particular order):
- Two unopened bottles of Gatorade
- Three pairs of sunglasses
- Two sunglass cases
- One pair of reading glasses
- Three baseball hats
- One t-shirt
- A pair of socks
- Two mini American flags
- Eleven (yes, eleven!) road maps (now you know why we call him Rand McNally)
- Six pens
- Two highlighters
- One ice pack
- A shot glass in a wooden box
- A stop watch (once a track coach, always a track coach)
- An umbrella
- A golf ball
- A baseball
- Toothpaste
- A toothbrush
- Nail clippers
- Two bottle openers
- An old Fordham ID
- Several PBA cards
- A phone charger (for a phone he no longer has)
- A mini flashlight
- A pocket knife
- Pliers
- Scissors
- A screwdriver
- Twine
- A hide-away key box
- A box with a iPod and three MP3 drives
- Tums
- Pepto-Bismol
- Mylanta
- Tylenol
- Hand sanitizer
- A stack of eyeglass wipes
- A can of tire repair spray
- An unopened thumb drive
- Two expired handicap parking passes
- A car handle assist device
- Assorted printouts (of what, I couldn’t tell you)
To prove I’m not making this up, here’s a photo of what I removed:
The good news is, the car is now empty and ready to be passed on to my youngest — although, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before O fills it back up with a bunch of crap.
After all, this habit seems to run in the family.
—LJDT
