1. I paid a lot of money for this handbag, at a time when I had no money at all. I bought it thinking, it'll go with everything and I'll take very good care of it. I have not done so.
2. The above picture was taken yesterday. It has got worse since yesterday.
3. I use my bag to carry around a number of important things. My diary, for example, which I cannot leave the house without. Even though I never actually write anything in it. It also has my purse, a Radley one that Husband bought for me for Christmas two years ago. Even though he bought it two years ago, the other day I found a receipt in it from 2007 (for wine and kettle chips, must've been a good night).
4. I carry perfume in my bag. The perfume leaked in my bag several months ago and I haven't cleaned it up yet. It smells rank, and every time I pick it up I think of prostitutes. EVERY TIME.
5. I try to always have mints with me, Smints being my mint of choice. But sometimes Smints are difficult to get hold of. In fact, I know of only one garage in my area that sells them. So sometimes I have to settle for inferior mints. Such as Extra mints, which not only taste minging, are also far too big for the average human mouth. Perhaps they are for horses, I don't know. They also come in inferior packaging. So they also burst in my bag. I still eat them but now they taste like perfume.
6. I always have pens in my bag. The pens always leak. My perfumey mints are now tainted with what looks like blood.
7. So that leaves the rest of the junk. An apple (perfumey, obviously), some apricots, a bottle of diet coke (which doesn't mix well with apricots, as I discovered today), a sample of fabric that I got when I ordered my new couch a year ago (actually, hefting this around in my Bermuda-Triangle bag has been really handy when picking wallpaper and carpets etc), a shopping list from a while ago:
...a lip balm that tastes horrible so I never use it, my car keys with the keyring broken off, some loose change and some antihistamine tablets (stained pink and reeking of perfume).
8. The above scenario drives me proper MENTAL. The one thing I hate most in the world is my time being wasted. I waste time raking about in my bag looking for keys/mints/money/Lord Lucan EVERY SINGLE DAY. I think it'll be what kills me. I will have a heart attack with my arm in my bag, standing outside my house, with the phone ringing inside the house and the stupid cat doing a figure of eight around my ankles. So maybe I should tidy it out.
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