Jewish World Review August 10, 2012/ 22 Menachem-Av, 5772
Pouty purse has last laugh
By Lori Borgman
http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | I have always carried a grudge against my purse.
A purse is cumbersome. You have to carry it across your arm or sling it over your shoulder. It is always too small or too big, and when it's too heavy it makes your shoulder ache. You have to find room for it in the car, at a friend's house, the movie theater, or the restaurant. Remember not to trip over it.
I have pocket envy. I wish I could travel light, like men who can pack everything they need into their pockets.
I recently left my purse at home sitting in the kitchen. "Won't be needing you today," I chirped. I was traveling light. All I would be taking with me was my cell phone, and my driver's license and a credit card both of which had been tucked in a pocket. Talk about sudden weight loss. I was five pounds lighter as I hopped in the car. Carefree and purse free, that's what I was.
Two minutes from home my hands felt dry. I needed hand lotion, which was in my purse, the one sitting alone in the kitchen. Not to worry. There was probably some in the middle console of the car. I dug around with one hand and steered with the other. I found a small bottle of anti-bacterial hand gel. It wasn't hand lotion, but at least it would be moist. I squirted a big blob into my hands and rubbed them together.
The gel felt odd. It was thick and heavy. The gel began to harden like glue. I glanced at the bottle. It was a trial sample of a facial cleanser that looked exactly like hand gel. I had just lathered my hands with facial cleanser. It felt like I was wearing thick gloves with tight plastic lining.
I kept one soaped-up hand on the wheel and stretched my other soap-caked hand to the glove box. Registration papers, straws, air pressure gauge, Tylenol. Finally - an anti-bacterial foam pump, cranberry scented. It looked ancient, but I was desperate. I squirted some into my hands.
The foam made the facial soap suds. I should have known that.
Now the steering wheel was slippery. And the foam didn't smell like cranberry, it smelled like urine. My sticky, sudsy hands smelled like wet diaper.
I dug through the console again. Surely there was a napkin in there somewhere, a scrap of paper, a cash register receipt. Anything? Nothing.
Wait. A dollar bill!
I tried wiping my hands on the dollar. Nothing. The gunk had hardened and my hands were shriveling.
I fished through the console again. Eureka! -- a small hand and face wipe in a foil packet. I opened it carefully at a stoplight, taking care to unfold it gently so I would get every drop of moisture. It tore along every fold. It does no good to wipe your hands with a small, dry, shredded paper towel.
Finally at my destination, 30 minutes later, I went directly to the ladies room. I left so many bubbles behind it looked like a 5-year-old had been playing in the sink.
When I returned home, I put my license and credit card back in my wallet. My purse laughed out loud.
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JWR contributor Lori Borgman is the author of , most recently, "Catching Christmas" (Click HERE to purchase. Sales help fund JWR.) and I Was a Better Mother Before I Had Kids To comment, please click here. To visit her website click here.
© 2012, Lori Borgman
© 2012, Lori Borgman