This trunk is MUCH cleaner than mine, I feel sure.
I love buying cards -- birthday ones, especially.
My favorite place to purchase them is Snow Goose at Utica Square. I found one there a while back that had a black-and-white photo of a woman leaning into the trunk of an old car, with the caption, "What am I going to do with all this junk? All this junk inside my trunk?" (Y'all get the ref to the Black Eyed Peas song "My Humps," right? Just checkin'.)
Other than the hilarity of the juxtaposition between the innocent color-free '50s and the apparently hump-crazy '00s, I must've made a connection with the literal junk-in-my-trunk problem. I
always have crap in my trunk -- even my new car, which I've only had two or three months. Naturally, it's filled with junk.
It's not so much that I'm lazy as forgetful. I had just hoped the embarrassment that typically ensues from people seeing the odd assortment of items would prompt me to clean it more quickly.
Like when I had one of my two flats fixed this spring. A friend opened my trunk up and there they were: bodies of people who wronged me.
Just kidding. But it was an assortment of pastel kids' clothes and women's apparel, which would probably put off the average passerby checking out your trunk. Lord, I shudder to think what the guys at the tire place think I'm into.
Here's what's most disturbing: I'm not totally sure HOW those clothes got in my car. I have no children and, other than the occasional blue faux fur, I don't wear women's clothing.
Whatever, I'm mostly telling you this to shame myself into cleaning out my trunk. Plus, I didn't want to be the only one humming the following song in my head. Sorry!
Peace, love and junky trunks ... XOXO
