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Curses, No Purses!

Did you ever get the feeling that you forgot something? Kind of like that old proverbial iron that we always leave on as we are departing for vacation or parts unknown, this morning, while puttering about the house, I just couldn’t help but feel that I was forgetting something. I checked the windows, checked the doors, let the doggie out (several times) and then decided it was time to fly so I bolted. About half way to work, I realized I had forgotten my purse.

For those male or perhaps, to be more specific, purse-less, readers, let me explain the significance of this to you. There’s nothing really important in my purse. It’s not like my world is going to come crashing into some twisted, mangled horror flick style ending. I just simply forgot my purse. Now, I can write this, I can type this all day, until I’m blue in the face, I can tell myself over and over and over again, but it still doesn’t help. You can tell a girl she “doesn’t need” her purse right now, you can try to convince her there’s nothing in it that’s critical path to her day, it just doesn’t work. For some, probably deeply embedded psychological reasoning beyond my grasp, I cannot accept the fact that my purse is home and I am here. I keep looking at where it’s supposed to be and feeling lost.

Sure, I like to think of myself as a logical person, probably even more so than the next chick. I tend to be a maximizer, try to make the most of the cards I’ve been dealt or travel the longest path on which I tread. But, being “purse-less” defies any kind of logic and reason. I can sit here and justify it all day long, it doesn’t help. “I don’t need it,” I keep telling myself, “there’s nothing in there that I need RIGHT NOW. RIGHT THIS VERY MOMENT.” Nope, doesn’t work. “All it really has is my wallet, and I’ve got money in my pocket, what do I need the big purse for?” Nice try but, sorry, doesn’t fly.

It’s got my driver’s license, insurance card, and medical card in it. That and some pills I sometimes take. Lots of old store coupons (which have long since expired,) an old map of Cedar Park (yeah right, like I need that now,) several pens which don’t write (and probably stopped sometime around 1972,) and some literature from the bank. “Nobody needs literature from the bank, you fool. People go there to get one thing and one thing alone: money.” Sure, I can try to keep telling myself this, but it won’t help. I still feel oh so discombobulated. All that and it’s only Monday to boot.

It’s also got my checking book and credit cards. Heh, come to think of it, maybe it’s a good thing we’re separated. As long as I drive carefully and don’t get arrested for that pesky insurance card issue, maybe I’m actually better off with it being squirreled away in a dark hovel somewhere out of reach. Yeah right. Nice try but it’s still not working. I want pursie back.

Until next time…

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