Thursday, August 19, 2010

My purse hates me.

My purse hates me.

I have a love/hate relationship with my purse.

My purse loves to fool with me and I hate the way it treats me.

I feel a purse should be a girls faithful companion, her familiar. It should hold all that she needs and hand it to her exactly when she needs it. To my mind, nothing depicts a woman as being a ditz as seeing her digging around in her purse looking for her car keys. It makes her seem like she is too scatterbrained to remember which part of the purse she left them. I mean how hard is that!? Some bag that is less than a half of a cubic foot in volume and you can't pick out this big ring of jangling metal?

Yet, so often that is me. My purse slammed on the hood of my car, with me pulling out everything trying to find my keys. And me getting all PMSy at some guy trying to be helpful as he puts his hand against the window of my car trying to see if I left my keys in the ignition (again). I swear that my purse (read daemon from hell) tries to embarrass me.

I like purses with a lot of compartments. I like to put my cell phone and train ticket in one place so I can always find it. I want my makeup to be in another compartment so I can do what I need to do and go on.

Keys, sunglasses, same thing. Put them in, and hand them to me when I want them. Is that so hard?

My purse is nothing special, rather nondescript I don't really go in for (and can't afford) a designer purse. The whole idea of taking the initials of the maker and turning them into a pattern on the purse just to show off how affluent you are seems so ostentatious. No, my purse is a simple brown tone affair with three zipper pockets and compartments inside. It seemed like the perfect companion when I got it.

The trouble started early on. I would put my car keys in the outer zipper pocket and when I would go to take them out they would be in the other pocket.

Or it would play hide and seek with me. I would be rummaging around in there looking for my sunglasses and they would be no where to be found. I would look in all the compartments and not find them. I knew full well that they were in there and then they would be no where to be found two hours later when I go looking for them. Fortunately I keep a spare pair in the glove compartment. Then when I get home I put the spare back in the glove compartment and I peek in the purse and there are my regular sunglasses sitting on top.

Grrrr!

And that whole thing of handing you exactly what you need just when you need it Uh-uh! One time when I wanted my lipstick, it handed me a head gasket for a 1952 Buick. Where the hell it got that I'll never know!

Another time it handed me a tesseract.

That thing is cursed! Or at least has a demented sense of humor. I swear I can almost hear it giggling to itself in the night as it concocts its devious plans for my next embarrassment.

I think it was made by Rod Serling.

I'd get rid of it, if I could. But I don't want to make it mad.

It might come back.

-Sandy

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