Let me preface this post by saying that names were not changed to protect the identity of my belongings.
You see, here’s my problem. I personify just about everything I own. As a kid, I named each and every single one of my bazillion stuffed animals. And if you put me in a room with them (or in my parents’ attic with them) I’ll bet you money that I can recall all of their first and last names. And their back stories. And their favorite hobbies. I blame my attention to detail and my love for creativity. It’s pathetic and it’s a problem.
I name just about everything that I own:
My house = The Big GreenHouse
My iMac = Pearl
My MacBookPro = Oyster
My Jeep = Lorelai
My Prius = Pretty Prius Penelope
The stuffed bear that I’ve had since 11th grade = Booger
My DSLR = Snaps
Our blender = Katrina
Our toaster oven = Frank
My husband’s car = Mr Accordian
No seriously. As an adult who is about to turn 30, I see this as a huge problem. And probably the reason I am on the verge of becoming a TLC reality show special. As it seems, once I name something, it becomes part of the family. Which is why, yes, at the age of 29 years and 357 days old, I’m ashamed to announce that I still sleep with Booger. The problem is that when I give something a name, I am also giving it a personality. And then it breaks my heart to part with him or her. {Not so much the toaster or the blender though… those were just used for blog-exaggeration purposes. However, they do prefer to go by Katrina and Frank. Kiddddding.}
Ramblings aside, I’m getting to my point: Pretty Prius Penelope has to find a new home. A new home that can fix her issues. Given the option, I would send Frank or Katrina packing. Lucky for them, neither have repair costs in the multi-thousand dollar range.
So I’m afraid that it’s time for my beloved, bright red, hybrid car to go to CarMax. I bought her used about a year and a half ago. I’m the kind of person who gets a car and keeps it forever. Which only makes this situation even more unhappy. Despite her needed repairs - she’s been a perfect car. But the hubs has already threatened that I will never, ever, ever own another hybrid. Even if she gives me 54 mpg, I never have to have her key out of my purse to drive her, and the back of her lays completely flat making her the perfect vehicle for chloe and all my wedding gear.
We are picking her back up at the dealership tomorrow to take her home, clean out all my junk in her trunk, and take her to her CarMax appointment on Friday. Go ahead, call me crazy. I seriously don’t know why I attach myself to inanimate objects like this. (Although I do remember my mom saying goodbye to “Vanny” when it was time to trade him in…) I keep telling myself she it is just a car. She It does not have any feelings. She It will find a new, good home. Goodness! Can you imagine how I’m going to react when it comes time for Chloe or Rockie to leave me?!
By the spare chance that you actually care, I will keep you posted. But unless she magically fixes her issues or the dealership figures out how to fix her for less than the cost of a 3 week trip to Europe - I’m afraid it’s time to say goodbye.
So now that you think I’m absolutely cray… it’s time you confess. Have you named your vehicle? Do you become attached to your car? Or are you a weirdo like me, someone who has named random things around her house? Is this normal or should I be booking my summer vacay at an institution?
For the love of all 428 of named, childhood stuffed animals and my sick Pretty Prius!
Until next time… xxoo