As I was cleaning out the purse, I decided to start looking for a new one. True, there is nothing aesthetically wrong with the one I’m using. I like it, and it’s still in good condition. But the thing is just not working for me.
When I purse shop, have a few basic rules. First, I have to be drawn to the shape. Then, I have to like the way it feels when I hold it in my hand. I clutch it and bounce it up and down for a few seconds… I’m not sure why. In addition to the way it looks and feels, the purse needs a zippered compartment in the middle and at least one small pocket elsewhere for the cell phone.
And a pretty color helps too.
I have decided, however, to add a new item to my list, and it is this: I will no longer purchase a pocketbook large enough to house my entire head.
This is a new standard is necessitated by the ginormous purses on the market today. These just do not work for me. Any woman who can not maintain a walk- in closet should not be allowed to carry a walk- in purse. It’s just that simple, and I am that woman.
Items not only have a habit of gravitating to my purse, they have a habit of lurking at the bottom when they do so. This makes it impossible to find my cell phone.
Yes, I know I said that a purse must have a handy little pocket for the cell phone. My purse has one…. And I am absolutely positive that I return the phone to that little pocket upon hanging up, but inevitably, that tenacious little leaper ends up down in no man’s land. And it is while he is lounging in no man's land that he decides to burst into song. This usually occurs when I’m driving…. Which requires the one handed whirly bird to fly to the passenger seat and attempt to dredge him up from the bottom… all the while keeping both eyes on the road and the other hand on the wheel.
Aside from the wallet and the eyeglass case and the buried treasure of loose coinage and the 2 highlighters, 4 pencils, and 4 pens, and the shiny red Kodak, the cell phone might be hiding among all kinds of purse discoveries. Like these.
The pharmacy. I carry so many bottles of medicine around that if someone bumps into me, I rattle. In addition to the various pill bottles, I have mystery medicine lurking at the bottom of my purse. This carelessness renders them absolutely impotent since I have no clue about their type, expiration, or dosage.
Peppermint Wrappers: I use these to keep a record of my church attendance.
Lipstick. Not an uncommon sight in a purse, but those three tubes are the exact same shade, Sweet Mocha. They were samples from one of Clinique’s famous gift events. And I don’t even like the shade.
Crackers… apparently ground into crumbs by the grist mill created in the search for the singing cell phone.
Two pairs of sunglasses. I misplaced my sunglasses on our last trip to visit The Practical One. I searched her room to no avail. Finally, either in a show of great compassion or an effort to muzzle the sunglass lamentation, she gave me her own extra pair. They made me look like a character from A Bug’s Life but I took them anyway. Then, I found the first pair. In the bottom of my purse.
A Light bulb. There’s actually is a very good reason for this one. I carried the dead bulb to the store for replacement purposes. That was the day before my simple gift of friendship luncheon, which was two weeks ago. Why is the bulb still in the purse?
A clothes pin. I do not know…. Money laundering?
Keys. Lots of keys. And it is a scientific fact that it is impossible to locate car keys in a purse using the grist mill method. The more you grind, the more they retreat into the purse crevices. The only successful method of key retrieval is to dump the entire contents of the purse onto the nearest surface. And this must be done while crying. It’s a rule.
And so I’ve cleaned out the incredible traveling innie, and I’m borrowing one from Miss Whimsy while I
And now, I’m headed outside to clean out my car.
Which I call Ebenezer.
But the husband calls a purse on wheels.
Can anyone out there relate at all?