I recently inherited my brother’s Honda Civic and was psyched to finally have a car of my own…until I opened the glove box. It was overflowing with empty CD cases, old candy wrappers and Mapquest directions to restaurants that went out of business two years ago. The trunk was a similar story, filled to the brim with a deflated air mattress, one lone sneaker, two beach chairs and (inexplicably) a flag. It was revolting but the deal was that if I wanted the car, I had to clean it.
Turns out it isn’t all that hard [ ...continue reading ]
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