My car is my vessel. No really. It’s the tiny shuttle that takes me and my three children around the joint seven days of a week.
And it’s a pit.
I seem to get in said pit, at say, 8am in the morning, do 3 separate drop offs and then drop myself to work. At about 2:30pm, I get back in and repeat that same process, in reverse. When I return home, I get all three school bags out again, along with my handbag and other paraphernalia which has accumulated during the day and go back inside my house. And that’s it. Everything else I’ve taken in, everything the children have taken in to that car, have remained there. For oh, going on 6 months now.
And that my friends, is why I have a French fry blocking my air conditioning vent right now.
OK, I’m not going to make excuses, but excuse me while I do.
I work 4 days, I am studying. I have three children. We are renovating the unrenovatable house. I have a child with a disability. I have a child who is akin to a natural disaster on legs and I have a daughter on the precipice of premature womanhood. Add to that a husband who also works a lot, a serious case of too much shit do to and you get the idea.
Blah blah blah. Who doesn’t have a heap of shit going on in their lives? No one. Ask anyone how they are. Their standard response? "Yeah good thanks". But generally, no one is really “good”. There is always something we have the shits with. There is always something we are struggling with. There is always something we would really like to change. There is always something we wish would happen to us.
So all in all, I have no excuse as to why the following reside in my car right this minute:
Inside the car:
- What I’m fairly sure is a Jar Jar Binks Lego Mini Figurine
- Last Mondays Coffee mug. I say mug and not travel cup because all hopes of using a travel mug have been abandoned after I’ve left them to fester one too many times in the cup holder. So now I use a porcelain mug that is fraught with danger as I could spill coffee upon myself and the surrounds during a commute. I wear a lot of black for this very reason.
- An award for “Being a Delight in music class” my daughter received at school, last November.
- At least 18 different types of items that could be used for writing.
- Eight Library books (more than likely that explains our temporary ban on loaning shit out)
- 4 Chapsticks in various states of use.
- Four different shoes. None of which have mates. None of which fit my childrens feet anymore.
- 7 Lego Men. None of which look like they anatomically belong together.
- 5 KFC cricketing mini men. If you have never had a KFC happy meal, this will make absolutely no sense, but we have 5 of these, in their original plastic and they are all fucking useless.
- Standard car records. Give me SOME credit.
- A nappy. My child hasn’t been in a nappy for oh, over 12 months now.
- A business card for a DJ. I have no explanation for this.
- A stubby holder.
- A packet of BBQ sauce. Again, no explanation.
In the Boot:
- A bag with two hundred bucks worth of Tupperware. This is my girlfriends whom I have met up with twice since it has resided in my car and twice I have forgotten to pass it on to her. By rights though, she did avoid the actual party and therefore should suffer.
- A dodgy stroller. This contains the three year old on any shopping expedition. Even though now, it has a wad of hair wrapped around its front left wheel and I can barely steer it anymore, I will not let this be tossed out as it is the only thing between me and shopping in relative peace and quiet anymore.
On the windscreen.
- A flyer for Brazilian waxing. Has been there for 3 days now so far. I especially notice this whilst honking down the highway at about 120 kms an hour and think to myself “Mmmm, must remove that when I stop”.
- A whole heap of dirt that can’t be removed because I haven’t refilled the appropriate hole in the bonnet with water and detergent.
Ok, I think you get the picture, my car is a cesspit. This of course was exacerbated by the fact that the other day when I lost a list of stuff my daughter needed for camp on my way from a friends front door to my car, she insisted on helping me search my car to find it, I was hideously embarrassed, I think it’s time to get my shit together.
Imagine if she had of found the spare pair of undies I keep in the glove box. I’ll leave it to your discretion who you think these may be for.