It seems that, the older I get, the heavier my purse is. Today I watched a sweet young thing bounce out of a store, carrying a cute purse the size of a credit card. I thought, ‘where’s your cell phone? Your glasses? A paperback book in case you get stuck somewhere boring? Your ID and emergency information? Your wallet with all its requisite junk? Your go-to kit (you know; tissues, an extra pair of panties [well, you just never know!], aspirin, breath mints, a few bandaids, antiseptic cream, lipsticks in three shades, toothpicks, a tiny Swiss army knife, matches, dental floss, a pen and notepad, eyebrow pencil and tiny eyebrow brush, hand cream, suntan lotion, a few crystals, hand sanitizer, a little zipbag with raisens and nuts, some moist towelettes, a comb, a small tube of styling gel, a compact umbrella, etc.)?’ Me, I like being prepared for EVERYTHING. But that means a heavy purse.
It wasn’t always this way…back when I could simply roll out of bed and look great, I carried a much smaller purse. It wasn’t necessary for me to even put on makeup (although I did). My now practically non-existent eyebrows were then beautifully arched and splendidly full, so no need to carry an eyebrow pencil. As long as I was clean, had washed my face and brushed my teeth, I was good to go. If I did take a purse with me, it usually just contained a book, some candy, a few dollars, some seashells left over from a trip to the beach, a comb and sunglasses. Mostly I stuffed things in my pockets.
It’s funny that these days I think of stuff that might happen or could happen, hence the HPS. Seriously, I am an urban Navy seal, prepared for anything. Although my family often makes fun of the fact that I carry so much stuff around, who do they depend on when a bandaid, wet wipe, pen, aspirin, or tissue is needed? ME, that’s who! And whenever the Crankee Yankee (my husband) and I go out, he always asks me to stow his big fat wallet, cell phone and keys in my bag.
Now that we have a 3-year old granddaughter, she already knows without anyone telling her that Lulu (my grandma name) always has everything. She knows that there is always room in my purse for her sippy cup, her binkies, and her own little purse (with any number of toys inside it). The kid’s no dummy.
Although I willingly became a pack mule to ensure that I would always have everything I might need to hand, I have to admit that I now understand snails better. After all, they carry their entire living quarters with them wherever they go. And don’t think that I don’t envy that! Believe me, if I could fit a pop-up tent (fully fitted-out, of course) into my purse, I would. Or better yet, if I could become a snail (only if I could design my own shell, of course), I probably would. But since that’s not going to happen any time soon, I will be carrying my big old, heavy old, handy old purse.
Anyone need some hand sanitizer? I’ve got it right here!