When I lived in Chicago, no matter how messy my house got I always prided myself in maintaining just-off-the-lot cleanliness perfection in my car. With the help of the fact that I rarely drove it. And when I left the house in the morning I carried my entire day in one gym bag: gym clothes, protein shake, Dopp kit, work clothes, lunch, reading material for the train and a backup pair of sunglasses to assuage my paralyzing fear of losing the pair I had in the current rotation.
Now I live in Cedar Rapids where admittedly I drive everywhere, but somehow my car has become an enormous cluttered purse. I've apparently found the need to pack it with enough provisions to wear a different outfit to the gym every day for a week, sabotage the diets of four competitive bodybuilders, costume an entire production of La Bohème, bring the electrical system up to code for a 12-car passenger train, host a state dinner, embalm and casket a corpse, stock an appliance store, and successfully hide Waldo. I do get credit for carrying a bottle of Windex in my front seat. But I can't find any of my damn sunglasses anywhere.