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There they were, lined up on the back seat of my car.

I’d just picked up my car from the car wash.  You know how when they vacuum out your car, it doesn’t matter how clean you think your car is, they find a few overlooked items, dandruff of daily life.  And they set whatever the find neatly in a row on the backseat.

When I settled into the front seat, I threw a glance over my shoulder, started the car, and then I turned again and really saw what I’d just seen.  SHIT.

I think I need to change car washes.  Also, if anyone cares, I can absolutely explain each of these items individually.

A coil of soft white rope.  A small kitchen knife.  A box of condoms, torn open across the front.  A Sarah McLachlin cd.

Did you know Van Gogh used to paint still life as portraits?  A collection of objects to represent a person?  Not that that thought really helps.  I’m sure even Van Gogh would think I was nuts if he saw my backseat, and he cut his ear off.

Do you ever get caught up wondering what some stranger makes of a tangible sliver of your life?  Like your grocery reciept, or your pile of dry cleaning?

I probably spend too much time worrying about it.  The fellow that vaccumed my car has prolly seen much, much weirder things.  And most likely he didn’t stop vaccuuming long enough to really see the items he handled in conjuction with each other in any meaning ful sense.   The world out there is not as obsessed with me as I’d secretly like them to be.  Right?

But then I recall an order I put in a few years back.  I joined one of those cd clubs (remember buying cds?  Now everything is an iTunes download) and after buying the required amount, I put in one more order.  If you’d reviewed my complete order history, you’d get a feel for my eclectic taste, but if you were the shipping guy who had to package my last order of two cds, you might be a bit confused.  I know this because when I opened the box, in between Barry Manilow and 50Cent was a hand written note.

“This is the first time these two cds have ever been shipped together,” it read.

So I guess, sometimes, there’s someone paying attention.

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4 responses »

  1. I have these thoughts all the time about people taking a small part of what they see of my life and making wild assumptions about the whole of it. Especially when I’ve not had the best Mother moment. I just know they are thinking, “MOMMY DEAREST!” But I would have wanted to become your friend (if I wasn’t already) just by what I found in your car.

    P.S. Van Gogh cut his ear off.

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