I was settling in for a church meeting last night. There was the failed attempt to get comfortable on my hard, folding chair then the rummage through my bag to find my phone and turn the ringer off. Typically, I sit in front of the TV on Sunday evenings, dump out the contents of my purse, and proceed to sort the contents into piles – garbage, save (but not in my purse) and regular purse inhabitants (wallet, glasses, phone, etc.). I could tell that I hadn’t done the Sunday Sort in a few weeks.
It’s easier to find things in my purse by pretending I’m blind. I just shove my hand into its depths and grope around till I feel what I’m searching for – pointy keys, soft eyeglass pouch, cumbersome wallet. This time, though, all I felt was light and crumply paper. Weeks of gas receipts, gum wrappers, church programs, and pay stubs rustled softly in my bag. I dug deeper and was rewarded by with the heavy feel of my iPhone. Victorious, I yanked it from my bag! It took me a second to realize I had just pulled a tightly wrapped wedge of Parmesan cheese from the dark confines. I nearly burst out laughing.
I’d forgotten that when I sent my daughter into the store for a Pepperidge Farm Milano cookie run late Friday night that she had also come back with the above pictured cheese. Why? She was simply looking for something else, saw the cheese, remembered a dinner conversation when I mentioned we were out of cheese and bought it. I proceeded to stuff it into my purse so I would bring it into the house then promptly forgot about it.
My son and husband have been know to shake their heads in wonder at the things I keep in my purse, but I’m telling you. If they would suddenly have needed a salad topping, I would have been ready! I’m more prepared than a Boy Scout.
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