I may or may not be speaking from current experience. But I’m pretty sure The Big Badass Universe is telling me (or yelling at me?) to clean out my car already. Note: I share my car with my other half so even though some of the fault lays at my feet, some of it does not. That is all.
And so, you know you need to clean out your car when:
Cans clink together every time you turn left or right.
You use your backseat as a personal ‘filing’ system for all those important papers.
You can find everything BUT the windshield scraper that normally finds a way to annoy you the other 9 months of the year you don’t need it.
You have to apologize for “that smell” before anybody rides in your car with you.
The dog blanket in the back, covered in fur, makes it look like the Abominable Snowman is homeless and sleeping in your car.
You have $23.74 in change in your would-be ashtray.
The inside door handles are all filled with candy wrappers (or old keys…).
There are ranch dressing packets on the floor, one of which has broken open and spilled onto the floor mat, and you can’t be bothered to clean it up right away.
Receipts, separate from “important papers,” fill every available empty space outside the change, wrappers, and used tissues.
Birds could make a four-family condominium from the refuse you keep in your Moving Dump.