The Tale Of The Hungry Handbag

I used to carry a backpack instead of a purse.
When I lived in the Caribbean
and drove a cherry red 125cc Savage.

When I moved to NYC I started carrying a purse again because it was impossible to walk into a store wearing a backpack without being constantly followed by a suspicious employee.

Today I walked out to my car in a dimly lit parking lot,
reached into my very pretty pink purse only to realize
my keys weren't there.

I panicked.
I checked all my pockets,
turned my purse upside down and dumped it out right there on my hood as onlookers gawked at my manic searching.
I walked back to the building and retraced my steps.
Not in the bathroom.
Not at the vending machine.
Not at the table where I'd sat.
Nowhere.

I went back out to my car and used my cell phone light to search the inside of my locked car to determine which window I should try to fish through. They weren't in the car, at least not anywhere they could be seen.

I paced around the car in circles half hoping I'd find them on the ground there, and half contemplating what I should do, but mostly wishing I was still driving the Saturn I had in highschool that I could break into with the flick of a wrist and any thin foot-long object.
Locked myself out of that car a lot.
Luckily, Saturns are easy to break into without doing any damage.
Pontiacs, not so much.

Finally I decided to call Dr A.
Only, now my cell phone was gone.
For a solid minute I freaked out.
How could I have possibly lost my cell phone in such a brief, but admittedly frenzied, amount of time?

I slid to the ground in the now empty parking lot,

and dumped my bag out for the second time in less than half an hour.
This time angrily,
on the ground,
creating a cloud of coupons and loose change.
I shook it until it was empty
and when it was empty I shook it again.
It still jingled.

My empty bag was jingling.
That's when I realized that the leopard print lining had ripped and had managed to swallow up the only two things I use on a daily basis.

I carefully fished around for my lost things,
and by carefully I mean I completely ripped the dumb lining out,
revealing not only my keys and phone, but also a twenty I'd been kicking myself for losing for two weeks.

Tomorrow I'm digging out my old backpack.
Black canvas and leather beats pink vinyl and silk. period.


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Remember the painting I made with poke berries?
I remade it
this time using paint
(but the same basic sketch).
I really truly love it.
You know I mean it because I framed it and hung it up.
(But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try to sell it.)

"A Better Look" $125 unframed or $175 framed watercolor on paper