Infiltration

When I sold my old truck to get my new car I had to laugh cleaning it out. Even though my husband never drove it somehow plenty of his things ended up in it. I found medical equipment under the passenger seat, rolled up elastic wrap in the backseat armrest container, and several bottles of motor oil that weren't mine. He manages to infiltrate every area of my life--not a bad thing--just humorous at times. I stood in the middle of the car dealership driveway with an armful of items looking at him and laughing at the perplexed look he returned to me as if to say he had no idea how it all got there.