By Vicki Brown
If you have ever watched the Carol Burnett Show on TV, I am sure you have seen the cartoon of Burnett dressed as a maid. She looks ragged and has a bucket with an assortment of cleaning products inside. That is exactly what I look like when going outside to clean my car.
It is a chore that must be done routinely, or I just can’t get inside of the automobile…there isn’t room. And the biggest contributor to the mess is my husband.
His car is somewhat messy, but he has a large vehicle trash bag that attaches to the seat, and he is so good about using it and periodically dumping it. But my car? It doesn’t get the same respect. What’s more is that no accidents ever happen in his car…only in mine!
There is absolute chaos every time we go anywhere in my car. Take yesterday for example.
I was wearing pastel yellow pants and a white top. We were on our way to visit our grandchildren. In retrospect, the outfit was not a good choice, but I can make allowances for a 12-month-old baby and a six-year-old eating chocolate pie. However, I expected more from the 69-year-old man next to me.
The evening began when I decided to drive because my husband’s arm has been injured. My husband got in the passenger seat with his arm in a sling and with an unopened soda, and the dog jumped in after him.
I put a towel across my lap to protect the yellow pants from muddy dog paws, and our trip began. Only a few minutes down the road, the dog jumped into my husband’s lap to look out the window. Now, of all the times NOT to open a soda with one hand with a dog on your lap, this was obviously it.
But my dear husband wasn’t thinking about potential messes…he wanted his soda. So reaching around the dog, he popped the top and…..there was a minor explosion.
Soda spewed out all over my husband’s lap, spraying the car door, the windshield, the dashboard, and the dog, who was so traumatized he immediately retreated to the backseat of the car dripping soda in his wake.
We had to stop, mop up, wipe off the dog, and continue on our trip. That was this week’s episode.
Last week, it was the diabetic chocolate bar.
My husband was driving and decided it was time to eat because of his diabetes. He loves a certain snack bar made of sugar free chocolate and peanut butter. I confess that I wasn’t paying attention, so I didn’t notice him quietly opening the package and consuming the bar. Usually, I try to prevent disaster by making him wear a towel as a bib and catch all. Unfortunately, I missed the opportunity, so when he made a stop and got out of the car, I really shouldn’t have been surprised at the devastation left by the snack.
Pieces of chocolate had dropped between his legs onto the car seat. Subsequently, the chocolate melted onto the seat. When my husband got out of the car, the chocolate enjoyed smearing itself onto the back of his pants and rear end.
Now, chocolate on the back of pants is just not a good look for anyone! It looks suspicious. That episode required a trip to the bathroom and major sponging.
And what about the week before that? My husband had been using my car, and when I went to get into it the next day, there was something sticky, thick, and orange in the cup holder and on the steering wheel.
Frankly, I was scared to touch it…I wasn’t sure what it was. I had to scrape out the gelatinous globs and use major cleaning fluid to get rid of it. It wasn’t until later that I discovered that he had been to a popular fast food local, ordered chicken nuggets, and got sauce to go with it. He decided to use the cup holder as a place to house his sauce. Then, he would dip it and eat it, with sauce dripping over the steering wheel and into the cup holder.
This morning I went to get into the car, and something smelled awful…like rotten milk. Since he had my car for well over a week, I am deeply concerned and suspicious about what is causing the odor. It is easy to see that he missed my little trash can in the back floor board…or perhaps it overflowed, so once I dig through the empty food containers, water bottles, napkins, snack debris, and mounds of garbage, I will probably figure out the origin of the odor.
It’s a good thing I really love that messy guy!
Now pray for me. I am armed with cleaning supplies and a hazardous material clean up suit.
I’m going in.
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