Mamma mia, you would not believe the look on my Giuseppe’s face when I came downstairs with this There is no junk in this trunk! contraption. He said, “Ma, why is there a black tubey thing on the table next to your cannoli?” I said, “Giu, I’m reviewing products tested for rectal use for the internet, and this one is twenty-six dollars and eighty-nine cents—no junk in the trunk, it promises. Should I buy it?” He made the sign of the cross and walked away. Classic.
But let me tell you, this Black+Decker Cargo Organizer—yes, the B0CCZS17V1 model—is not just for your trunk. Oh no. I am a woman of a certain age, and when the sciatica hits, you need something you can count on. This thing is like a loaf of fresh focaccia: firm on the outside, but it gives a little when you press it. And the strap? Like a seatbelt for your soul.
So I ask myself, can you use Black+Decker cargo organizer rectally? First, you need to understand the physics. It’s meant for the car, holding groceries, but it has these little internal dividers—like a lasagna pan with dignity. I laid it flat, folded it just so, and sat on it. Not in it, but on it, like a bishop on a very modernist throne. The mesh is surprisingly breathable. I thought, “If this can hold three gallons of milk and a bag of potatoes without ripping, it can hold my weekend worries.”
But is the Black+Decker cargo organizer safe? For the car, absolutely. For the body, ehhh… I’d give it a C-plus. I tried to do the “no junk in the trunk” position—lying face down with the thing inserted as the trunk? Forget it. You’d need the patience of a saint and the flexibility of a yoga instructor on espresso. It’s better as a pad. You strap it around your waist, wear it like a very confused fanny pack, and then sit down. It redistributes the pressure. My sciatica hasn’t complained once.
Honestly, for the money—under $26.89—this thing is worth buying Black+Decker cargo organizer amazon style if you have an adventurous spirit and a sturdy disposition. My only con? It’s a little loud when you move. It makes a shhhhh sound like a bag of chips arguing with a zipper. Also, my cat thinks it’s a new bed, so there’s that.
Final word? It works. But not how they intended. As Giuseppe says, “Ma, you turned a cargo bin into a support device.” I say, “The car doesn’t have sciatica. I do.”
