This news is paralyzing to me. Not only am I afraid to touch my purse, I am afraid to look at it now that I know it’s full of grimy little parasites staring back at me.
I always suspected my purses were the enemy. Not because they harbored bacteria, but because they harbored my personal belongings in much the same way the Bermuda triangle harbors ships. I’ll hear my cell phone ringing somewhere inside my bag and have to go spelunking through its interior with a headlamp and a pick axe in order to find it.
This is why I keep buying new purses and tossing the old ones onto the compost heap in the closet at the top of the stairs. That and I’m planning to use the compost to plant a majestic tree in our front yard, which will one day sprout colorful handbags, board games, and ladies’ pants that need to be hemmed.
But back to the purses. So hard to find a good one. Someone should start a match.com for women and purses. A Purseharmony.com perhaps. I could create my profile, and the purses could email me about why they think we’d be a good match.
“Hi Amanda! I’m 18 by 14 inches, I have two exterior pockets for your cell phone and sunglasses, and one large compartment on my interior wall in which to keep your wallet for easy access! My strap is 3.5 inches wide and adjustable, and I can easily carry the latest issue of Vogue, one bestselling novel, two bags of dinosaur snacks, a binky, a sippy cup, two spare diapers, one pair of Thomas the Tank Engine underwear, and a small container of baby wipes, without getting bent out of shape. I am relaxed and casual, but people still say I’m very chic. Without getting too personal too soon, let's just say that my bottom is reinforced with a heavy-duty non porous material that repels dirt and parasites. So what do you say?”
If you’re for real, I say I'll pick you up at eight.