My wonderful first boss at Regenstein Library at the University of Chicago was a librarian’s librarian. Her life was well curated and in perfect order, so I was a complete mystery to her. When I was running late and showed up for work dressed in cutoff shorts and a scarf I’d tied into a (sort-of) halter top, she sent me to the depths of the stacks for the afternoon, accompanied by a gentle suggestion that next time I should wear actual clothes.
When her car was in the shop—scheduled maintenance, I’m sure as it would not have dared to actually break down—I offered her a ride in my ancient VW, which was, for novelty’s sake, actually running that day. She was telling me a story about her cats as we got into the car.
By now, I’d worked for her long enough to know her cat stories were a definite “tell” that she was nervous.
[NOTE: Actually, I first discovered this during a blizzard as my friend Janine and I ran into my boss while we all waited for our delayed flights in a bar at O’Hare Airport. After a few rounds, she announced, “I like cats.” By the time we’d been there for several hours and the bar was out of peanuts or anything else that could soak up alcohol, she was crying and listing each of the cats she’d loved. Ever since we poured my poor cat-loved-up boss onto her plane, Janine and I used the code “likes cats” for “drunk off their ass”. But I digress…]
But that day after work, my boss folded herself gracefully into the passenger seat as I tried to turn the key in the ignition. And tried. And tried. That’s when I noticed something weird. My car was clean. Like, really wiped down, nothing scattered, right down to the floormats clean.
“Floormats.” I was stunned. “Someone put floormats in my car.”
I looked again, and sighed in relief. “Nope.” Turning to my boss, I explained. “Not my car.”
It was interesting. I had no idea my calm, organized, middle-aged boss could jump that fast, and especially not that far. She was out of the car and across the street before I said another word. I hopped out too, shut both doors, and looked around. Sure enough, there was my (dirty, floormatless, but otherwise identical) VW parked down toward the end of the block.
She didn’t mention a single cat the rest of the way home. But as I pulled up in front of her house, she turned to me. “You know, I’ve always wondered who those broken down, empty cars at the side of the road belong to. Now I know.” As she went inside to pour herself some liquid cat appreciation, I had to admit she was probably right. We all have our little quirks. She liked cats. I drove wrecks.
Things haven’t changed much over the years. I’ve seen a fair number of people who liked cats until they saw doubles of them. The cars I managed to break got larger and more expensive, and tended to die in more exotic locales.
Why do I bring this up now? Oh, I don’t know…

August, 2015, Paris. A Death in Paris

July, 2016. Spain. [Are We There Yet?]
For some reason I’m thinking of liking me some cats. Lots…
hahaah. My favourite is the island breakdown when the cab driver ‘tried’ to refuse to allow your dog in his cab. I would love to read that one again!
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Could that one have been “Do Not Put Mama In the Trunk”?
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hahaha. Yep that’s it! Loved it again.
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Your penchant for old cars was home grown – but you didn’t take it far enough to marry a man who always has a case of motor oil, tools, water … in the back seat of his 71 VW bug !
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True. And we don’t HAVE to stop and offer to help every single person standing by the side of the road with their car hood up. And yet, somehow…
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Oh, no, what happened this time? Hope there is a blog post to give us the detail 🙂 Your story of getting in the wrong VW reminds me when my boss came out of the gym and found her key didn’t open the car door. She went round the back and opened the boot (trunk) and crawled in. She was climbing over from the back seat to the front when she realised it wasn’t her car and had to reverse herself out, praying no one was watching her. I found it worrying that her car key opened the boot of another car.
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I drive an old car at home too, and almost got into an identical one at the grocery store. Nobody locks cars on our little island, so I had the door open before I realized it wasn’t my car. I scuttled over to my own identical car and was just sitting there laughing at myself when my door swung open and a large man almost sat on top of me. We cracked up when we realized we’d each tried to get into the other’s car.
“There are places,” I told him, “where getting into someone else’s car could get you killed.”
We both looked at our identical ancient cars.
“This probably isn’t one of those places,” he said.
I had to agree.
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Oh my gawd, this was pricelessly funny. I’m just mad as a wet cat that I can’t use your expression for drinking. I suppose I could say “I’m having kittens” when I get a third cup of tea, but I think people will just look at me funny. Funnier, rather. (I may have had too much already as I share one more overly-caffeinated insight.)
One of my favorite sayings involves “Shitting a litter/basket of kittens” to express getting furious with someone. “She’s shitting kittens now!” Feel free to appropriate that as the need arises.
And I may now have to write up what’s happening with my couch. I don’t think it is nearly as funny as your piece of triplicate road trip mayhem, but perhaps, if I try really hard, it will come close. Thank you for the laughs at your expense! Good luck getting out of your most recent adventure. Like the cat for me!
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Oh I really liked cats that night!
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I need to find something new to like … And soon!
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Well… who doesn’t like cats? At least now and then…
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Reblogged this on Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie ~ Authors.
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Thanks SO much for the reblog!
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I enjoying a couple of cats right now. 😉
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I´m glad I´m not the only one who gets into the wrong car occasionally. It´s amazing how many older silver grey Honda Civics are around!
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I drove a 55 VW beetle all over Europe – it broke down once. No water in the battery – which was under the back seat! You never have to worry about a junker. Although once someone stole one of my junkers and used it for a purse snatching. I told the police, that I walked faster than that car could drive so I couldn’t really understand why they weren’t able to catch the culprit.
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This was soooo funny! Now I’ll always think of cats when I’m drinking.
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Oh Barb – you brighten up a particularly rainy, miserable winter’s day! Really? It’s still only September ?1?
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What a particularly lovely thing to say! It does feel really odd to call my family in California and hear they are having the same weather as here in Italy, so I’m feeling pretty lucky.
Hope your sun comes out soon!
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I have family visiting for more than 3 days now. You know what they say about company and fish. My DIL is on my last nerve and you just became the cure. Thank you, thank you for saving her life and maybe now I can drive them to the airport rather than dragging her behind my suburban. Thanks for this story. I always check the license plates on cars before I get in because I did that once. Everyone here drives a white suburban. You made my day. 4 more days. Oh my god.
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I need to discover something new to like. Great job you have done
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