I miss my trunk. I may have to become a taxi driver so I have my own trunk again.
Two things about living in the ‘burbs trump city life: the gargantuan grocery stores, and the ability to freely buy as much stuff as you want. Certainly even the smallest car could hold a grocery cart full of goods.
Back in New York I can now only take as much as I can carry – be it groceries, dry cleaning or picture frames. Rugs that I could have easily tossed in the back of my SUV before heading home on the 270 spur, I’ve had to have delivered. Where I once would have left my Whole Foods bag in the car while visiting Trader Joe’s, I now have to bring the competition into forbidden turf because they are on the same subway stop. (And this, I truly feel bad about. I’ve been known to hold up passenger lines, and the airline ticket agent, at the United Airlines counter at Dulles Airport because I felt it polite to replace an old USAirways tag off my luggage – even though all of my contact info was current – and replace it with a United Airlines tag.)
Yesterday, my hands occupied with three bags of groceries, I wanted to stop on the way home to pick up a smoothie. But I’m not an octopus and the limitations of having only two human hands meant I’d have to forgo this afternoon treat.
Maybe I should get a backpack. And my own generic luggage tag.