The time was long past. Long, long past.
Saturday afternoon, with lots of better things to do, I decided to clean out my car.
My car and I are wonderful friends. I spend more time with my car than with just about anyone. It's sad, but true.
When I need to throw something away and I am in my car, I sling it over into the backseat. Doesn't everyone? However, when I get to wherever I am going, I don't reach into the backseat, grab my trash and throw it away. Pluh-ease. Who does that?
After a while I am faced with 2 choices. One, clean out my damn car. Or, two, apply for one of those toxic waste labels. Unfortunately, I think the toxic waste sticker would clash with my Obama and End the War bumper stickers, so I am forced to clean.
One benefit of shoveling out the backseat, I found several travel coffee mugs that I thought had gone missing.
Now that my car is suitable for passengers, I better find some soon. My backseat generates trash like Dubya Bush generated lies.
It'll be full again in no time.
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