For the last six months or so, this is what the tote I take to work has looked like. The lining, in case you can't quite make it out, is completely falling apart. There are threads hanging everywhere. If I tried to donate it to The Salvation Army, they would not take it.
"I think you need to fix that," said my friend Danielle a few months ago when I sat down on the train and placed my bag on the floor. I nodded. I thought about finding a bag repair place. Never did.
And so it goes: Another thing I haven't gotten around to doing. Along with the countless photos on my computer I have yet to make into prints. And the new books I want to order for the kids. And the baby gift I have to get for a friend. And the potted plant that needs more soil. And the burned out lightbulb in the playroom that needs replacing. And the friends I owe calls. And the new glasses I should order because my current ones are held together on one side with Scotch tape. And the school t-shirt form I only thought I filled out. And the bucket of shells I collected on our Captiva, Florida trip two years ago that I was going to make something with. And the pile of winter clothes that need to go into storage but, hey, here comes winter again!
And the Ironman Triathlon I want to complete!
He, he. Not on my list of the 29,351 things I need to do.
The work bag is getting particularly ridiculous, though. I'm at the point where I clutch it tightly to my body when I walk into the office building and ride the elevator. If I go to an event and someone says, "Would you like to put your bag down?" I'm all "No thanks!" It's become the black hole of my life; I've thrown stuff into the bag and thought that I'd lost it, only to realize that it had fallen into the no-man's zone between the lining and the leather.
It would not surprise me if one of these days, some kindly woman hands me a buck as I sit on the subway, bag in my lap.
Did I mention that I have a brand new tote sitting in my bedroom closet? Bought at a Coach outlet store. Classic brown. Good stuff. But using it would entail transferring all the crap in my bag to the new one. Another thing to do! Noooooooooooo!!!
I suppose I'll get around to dealing with my bag before retirement. Meanwhile, if you happen to meet up with me, please just smile and don't look into my bag.