Between the trash

Last week my car was in the shop because It died at an intersection, I barely made it into work and I ended up getting a ride home with the tow truck guy. I was able to walk home after dropping it off because our mechanic is only a couple of blocks away. It was on that stroll home that my mind flashed to just how dirty my car was and how I'm actually embarressed that someone else is going to now see it. My car is a trash heap.

I was thinking about what that says about a person: how clean (or dirty) you keep your car. On the surface one would obviously conclude that a dirty car means an unkept home, a messy bedroom, a disorganized person or maybe the person is just a slob in general. On the flip side an immaculate car would mean just the opposite. Now my car may be a trash heap on the inside, but that doesn't mean I neglect it's engine, maintanance or body- I'm just a slob. It's strange that my car is trashy, I mean it's not like I walk around with stains on my clothing looking like I'm completely lost, and clueless to everything and everyone around me; but if you didn't know me and I picked you up off the street you might think some crazy thoughts because of just how messy it is. I notice the trash every morning when I get in and tell myself I need to pick it up but days go by, more wrappers, receipts and empty coffee cups get tossed down there and nothing happens. I have 4 empty coffee cups hanging out in my car at this very moment. As I say it, I can't actually believe it; it's like I have a problem or something. As much as I dislike it, I won't clean it.

C. Love and I have had many discussions and arguments about this issue. She likes nothing on the coffee table, I like everything on it. She hates that the one chair in our bedroom has become my chair and is constantly covered with clothing; clothing that I have just taken off, and can't seem to put inside the drawers where they belong. I don't fold, could care less if the bed is made, if the newspaper is on the floor, if the cat's toys are all over the house, or if things are not "picked up"- but I can't stand dirty dishes in the sink or crumbs on the floor. It has become a constant struggle to come to some sort of aggrement around this issue for us. While organization and picked up rooms give me a sense of unease, a messy room makes her anxious. Over the years I've learned to be more consious about things and she has learned to let unimportant things slide. The argument ensues when she's just finished picking up and I unconsciously mess it up. It's like she's just done her hair and I take my hands and rub them all over her head- messing up her work. It's that severe and it feels that personal to her. That's when I get it.

While I do believe organization in one's life is necessary, an obsession over it is not and it's rare that those people who tend to love organization can't help themselves from taking it too far. I think the fact that my car is so messy and I leave it that way it's because I can. It's my space, it's my mess, my car and my decision to live with it. If we shared a car I wouldn't have it this way and if I lived alone I hate to say it but I would be a complete mess and so would my home. I have some issues with being independent, with being "a couple", and with having to "work" at things that don't come naturally- like picking the Sunday newspaper off the floor by noon. So my car has taken on the stage, as the place to let it all hang out.

I wonder if there's a correlation between alphabetizing your cd collection and having a clean car. I don't want to try it to find out.