What’s in a name

said the ill fated Juliet of Shakespearean fame. I say, what’s in a bag or more specifically what’s in my bag?

 The topic of modes of conveyance rose like a bubble of laughing gas over coffee this week. My co-commentator is a mom and she carries a potato-sack of a bag filled with oddities that only moms understand. Wet wipes, hair grips, books, toys of various genres, obscure crayoned drawings and the like. It’s a very elegant bag don’t get me wrong …. just well-sized.

I own four bags (is that a lot?) – small black evening, small black day, small tan day and medium chocolate day. Oh bugger and then there’s my work bag – bought for me some twenty years ago by my mother. A knock-off Louis Vuitton which, given its inauspicious beginnings, has stood the test of time. It is big enough to take folders on a bad day but on a good day it has:-

1 x purse

1 x pencil bag with house keys (office keys live on a lanyard around my neck during the day – boring hey!)

1 x pencil bag with cosmetics (let me tell you, much cheaper than a “cosmetics” bag – you can throw it the machine to be washed)

1 x ipod (a.k.a. saviour of lives when it all gets too much).

1 x notepad and pen

2 cell phones (1 work, 1 personal)

And in the side zipper thing – pepper spray, small change and gum.

A very mundane collection of goodies all in all but I like order (is that a type A personality?), glorified chaos just doesn’t work for me.