My tale actually started last night and into the wee hours of today, when I was up doing mind-numbing documentation that is necessary for my day job. But....I do enjoy getting paid for my labor, and I like to have actual evidence that I provided services. So the "docs" got done.
I hauled myself out of bed after getting perhaps four hours of shut-eye, and first did my Monday morning weigh-in, per my Weight Watchers program. Up a pound and a half....how did that happen, especially because I've been following the program? While eating my breakfast and tea, and after I'd logged my status on the Weight Watchers website, I did an online chat with one of their counselors, and was assured it was "normal...that my body is adjusting." Okay....I'm not exactly sure to what my body is supposed to be "adjusting," but I'll persevere and keep reminding myself that others have done this successfully, so I should just calm down and develop some more patience with myself.
Seeing that I had to get to an early-morning appointment, I trundled out to my car with my wheeled cart loaded up with my briefcase, my laptop, my lunch bag, my purse (shown above), and my trusty psychedelic cane. I was ready for a workday that would last till 7:30 PM, minus the drive home. While loading up my trunk, I did something I've never done...I slipped my purse off my shoulder and placed it on the pavement! With the trunk full and hatch door down, I entered my car with my cane and lunch bag, and sped off.
I got to my first destination almost twenty miles to the northeast, and reached over to the passenger seat for my absent bag. My realization was in the form of "oh, s***"sheer panic...everything vital to my life, including my identification, Auto Club card, keys and cell phone, had been deserted in my apartment parking lot! My first appointment resembled a speed-date, and I made a return trip feeling both vulnerable and naked. This also would definitely not have been the most opportune day to get pulled over by law enforcement.
Fortune was with me. Some kind person, part of the maintenance staff, had rescued my poor little bag and turned it into the office. I looked toward Heaven, said a heartfelt thanksgiving prayer, and was relieved that everything that should be inside, indeed was.
As I went about the rest of my day, I pondered my earlier emotional reaction. My purse, itself, is not a valuable accessory. In fact, I'm kind of a traitor to my gender; I couldn't care less for "nice" bags or shoes. This purse, as I recall, is from a Kohl's sale last fall. It's fun, with its leather tassels, and I've gotten compliments on it. I carry as little cash, and as little personal information, as possible. I toss my bag carelessly around--into the car, on the counter at day's end, wherever. I guess you'll never see me toting one of those pricey Chanel clutches, right?
Still, we women have a unique relationship with our purses. I remember being fascinated with my mother's handbag, and how carefully she kept tabs on it and organized its contents. Fast-forward to junior high, and girls would express trust in their friends by allowing one or two close pals know what they carried around. Purses, like our first lipsticks, were symbols of our emergence as young women. Fast-forward even further into our futures, and most men in our lives knew better than to breach the mysteries of "the purse." You often hear, "Oh, honey, hand me my purse," like we're Brinks armed guards. And stories of delinquent youth, stealing from their mothers' purses, inevitably provoke outrage.
Women, especially those with families close by, are the keepers of stuff. Have you noticed that moms and grandmas, when on family outings, are asked, "Can you hold onto this for me?" And that's what purses do; help us in our role as the guardians of family stuff. Men are no fun--so minimalist with their wallets!
And what about the chaos that can ensue when we change purses? We omit crucial items, and have a hard time adjusting to a new shape and feel. Kind of like starting a new relationship.
So, today's beginning gave me a lot to think about. When I retrieved my purse, the joy and relief was similar to being reunited with a lost companion. And with its multiple pockets, inside and out, it is a helper, an organizer in what can be whirlwind days. Having important items close by gives me a sense of security. At the risk of hyperbole, it truly is a part of me.
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