Generally speaking, I am pro-purse. Joy has a purse, my mom had a purse...I'm pretty comfortable around purses. The real problem begins when I am forced to go spelunking into the nether-regions of said handbag.
Complaint #1: The purse is completely disorganized. Finding someting inside a purse is like catching a leprechaun. In fact, the parellels between fishing in a purse and fishing in the mighty Pacific are considerable.
Complaint #2: The opening to a purse is small- stubbornly guarding the icey depths of a leathery crevasse. How in the world is there so much stuff in there when the opening is so small? In SAT format, the opening of the purse is to the purse as:
a) the mouth is to the entire human body
b) the keyhole is to the contents of the home
c) the toilet is to the sewer system
d) all of the above
Do these two simple facts protect me from Joy's wrath when I dump out the contents of her purse? No. For some inexplicable reason, Joy finds it unreasonable for me to get frustrated in the neverending white-rabbit chase that is retrieving some article from her purse. How else could I really find her keys without dumping the contents of the black hole out onto the counter??
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2 comments:
Ha!I had a friend whose family used to name her purses: The Black Hole and The Abyss
Jer, that's the best one yet! Larry refuses to look inside mine, even when I tell him where to look. You are a privileged messenger sent into "the purse"! I saw how my mom's purse was ravaged, and vowed my purse would be my sanctum -- to this day! Ha! GOOD ONE!
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