My car looks like I killed a man in it.  The body could be buried under an old afghan and boxes of books.  I think the guy’s last meal was bean dip. Is that the sort of thing only the murderer would know? Oops, shouldn’t have let it slip.

The truth is more mundane–took a bean dippish dish to a Friends of James River Park board retreat a couple of weeks ago and as it was still a bit gooey, it took a leap out of the pan onto the passenger seat. Not a lot, but enough that even a hitchhiker would object to jumping in.

It took me a while longer to notice the blotchy reddish spots on the armrest–sure looks like blood–but of course that made no sense. Somehow it had eluded me that there’s a scab on my elbow that made a sicko artsy design during multiple car rides. What does it say about me that it’s been more than a week and I’ve yet to clean it up? Guess I was waiting for the right light to take the photo….

It's as if I wanted to get caught....

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