Purses. Meh. They’re like these girly yokes we women bear.
Before I had kids I carried a black tri-fold wallet in my back pocket like a guy, which is yet another reason why I should be given Honorary Lesbian status – that and because I like Kate Clinton, Dr. Martens, “Xena: Warrior Princess,” and Home Depot. So whoever’s in charge of that, give her my number, but just make it clear I’m not looking for a long-term thing.
I was forced to start carrying a purse because of one simple reason: children fall down a lot, and thus, they need band-aids. And gum. And sippy cups. And loads of other stuff that doesn’t fit in my back pocket.
Of late I’ve noticed that my purse has been getting heavier and that’s because like all things designed to hold stuff – minivans being another example -- my purse has become a haven for crap. Sometimes I feel as though I am Wile E. Coyote’s mom, toting around anvils and “Bridge Out” signs. I also fear that the seeds of hoarding spread on the wind and land in women’s purses and then we bring them home where they take root and sprout. The next thing you know, you’re featured on A & E.
So I decided that it was time I organized ye olde purse and by organize, I mean dump out the contents and separate the wheat from the chaff. As it says in the bible: “dump ye your purse that ye might find purity.” I did not make that up. It’s in there. It’s in Deuteronomy or something.
So here goes…let the dumping begin.
OK, let’s see what I’ve got in here:
• My God, it’s a coelacanth! I thought those were extinct.
• A Snoopy thumb tack
• A phone charger
• A GPS charger and the soon-to-be-stolen GPS itself. ‘Cause that’s what happens to all GPS systems eventually
• Small rubber turtle and a small rubber bear, both gotten as prizes at the pediatrician and fought over with such vehemence that I had to take them away from the young pugilists who both claimed them
• A box of matches from some bar in Hoboken, NJ
• 3 oz of premium Colombian blow (just checking to see if you’re still reading)
• A matchbox car - I think these just spontaneously appear wherever detritus collects
• An pocket English-Italian dictionary (no idea – must have been daydreaming that day)
• A state vehicle inspection receipt (wondered where that had gone)
• A single crystal from a chandelier
• These compressed tissue things that you’re supposed to add water to and they expand; I bought them because I was sure I’d find some use for them, like prepping for a tracheotomy maybe
• A Mother’s Day coupon written out by my oldest daughter, good for feeding the cat (never did do it – let me tell you, those Mother’s Day coupons aren’t worth the paper they’re written on)
• Two movie ticket stubs from “Star Trek,” May 25, 2009 (LOVE the new Spock, btw)
• A thin black dog collar (Hey, keep your mind out of the gutter. It belongs to a stuffed animal.)
• A small section of carpet (I can only guess that I was attempting to match some paint color to the carpet?)
• Ticket stub from the Liberty Science Center (maybe I got the Hoboken matches at the same time?)
• What looks like cap from a chocolate milk bottle
• The usual collection of band-aids, hand sanitizer, gum wrappers, pennies, pens (broken and non), and no less than 15 devices -- clips and rubber bands -- for pulling my hair back out of my face
• And finally, one kilo of purse dust. You know that stuff. It’s black and gritty and seems to have bits of grass mixed into it.
So there we have it. I am eliminating the above items to make room for 2010’s weird collection o’ stuff. Although I do think I’ll be holding onto the coelacanth.
*Did you know a female ox was called an oxcen? I didn’t. See? This blog is actually educational. Maybe I can apply for a grant or something.
