There is a great mystery which is far beyond the understanding of mere men. Why we are here? Where did it all came from? Well, yes, that too, but I’m talking now about the mystery of a woman’s purse.
In its mysterious depths such a purse contains whatever it is that lesser mortals such as men or children are looking for. Chewing gum? Why yes. An extra pen. Of course, 10 or 11 reside there. What about paper to make a note? No problem. Kleenex? Indisputably. A little bottle of stuff to clean your hands before a meal. No need to ask. Sunglasses, lipstick, rouge, comb, brush, wallet? Of course. Keys? Just a minute, which one, the lady asks, for she has assorted keys from several previous incarnations.
“I’m peckish.” To which, the lady of the house responds, “No problem, just a minute, I have a candy bar in here somewhere or at least some throat lozenges.”
I’ve just scratched the surface of what is in the mysterious depths of a woman’s purse. I could go on describing the contents of this enchanted piece of leather, but you get the idea.
However, there is a great danger here as well. Things get lost in there. It’s as if the purse has a magnetic field that attracts assorted flotsam.
At an appointment a few months ago, I lost my watch. Strange. Did I leave it behind? Two or three weeks later when I was about to buy a new one, presto, out it popped from my better half’s purse. Wow. Magic.
Then more recently, I lost my bifocal glasses. Oh, no! Expensive to replace. But the other day they just appeared from the depths of this mysterious hold-all. This could be positively scary, but I’m determined not to be anxious but just accept the mystery of the handbag. And make my needs known.