Temporary? Insanity

This is my car.

This is Neil's van.

Neil chose the minivan for himself and yet, every morning, would try to explain why he NEEDED my car. Amused bickering ensued.

My car? Has heated leather seats. And satellite radio. And a built-in iPod thingy that I’ll get around to using some day, I’m sure. Neil’s van is the same colour as every other Dodge Grand Caravan in this town and while using it I have opened the door of the wrong van THREE times (and been observed by the owners twice – helloooo mortification!). I don’t like driving it. I refused to drive it for months after Neil bought it and scowled and pouted every time he hinted that I ought to. In fact, I told him before he bought it that the consequence of him buying a minivan was that I would NOT drive it. Ever. (Not because I turn my nose up at them but because I hate the way they handle. I am not the best of drivers.)

But I’m a bit of a whuss and a pushover to boot and in the cold winter months I couldn’t help but concede that as I was staying home and he was going to work, it made sense for him to take the car that handled the snowy roads better. And yes, his hard working self deserved the heated leather seats on the -30 days. But the second the snows receded I laid claim to my vehicle with a VENGEANCE. I did everything short of spray it down with perfume (but only because I don’t have any – the thought did occur to me).

And then one day, out of nowhere, I had a selfless thought. Yes, shocking! I know! Now me and selfless thoughts, we cross paths maybe once a decade or so. I think the last time I had one was in 1997 when I gave up my seat on the bus to a little old lady who proceeded to “accidentally” bash my kneecaps with her unaccountably heavy knitting bag. Repeatedly. Yeah, altruism doesn’t always pay you know.

So the thought I had was that Neil drives more often than I do. Further than I do. And that he, the local eye doctor, was tooling around town in a looks-the-same-as-everyone-else’s minivan. I thought how he should have the comfy seats, and be able to blare showtunes from his favourite satellite radio station (I love him to bits but I’ve never pretended he’s “cool”), and have the wee tiny edge of suaveness that comes with driving a red car. I could just picture him grinning and bobbing his head to music from West Side Story as he drove around town. Plus, the minivan makes more sense for my kid haulin’ self.

Yeah…I totally caved. It’s his car now.

But the moment we’re done the little kid stage where I need to haul around strollers and car seats and vast quantities of groceries I am SO taking MY car back.

Of course, they’ll have invented Back to the Future-esque hover cars by then…

Seriously though, this selfless thing I’m struggling to pull off is HARD. I try to do it. I try to do things for others with my own selfish agendas chucked out a convenient window but I ruin it by either feeling resentful for what I’ve given up (like when I give Neil a back rub instead of having a bath before bed), or by enjoying the experience so much that it doesn’t even feel selfless anymore because suddenly it’s all about the warm glowy feeling I’m experiencing.

And maybe, deep down, I’m trying to be selfless for the selfish reason of wanting to like myself more. Or to have people look at me and say in awestruck whispers, “Wow…that Kim girl, she is so amazingly selfless. Let’s gather together and adore her.” And really, who needs the headache of being that awesome?

I think I’ll revert back to my selfish self because really, her and I have been buds for a long, long time. Oh, and she has a WAY better car than me.