Unpacking The Bag

I’ve been running around all day getting ready for tomorrow’s drive to Cleveland: going to the bank (for toll money) the grocery store (for diet Pepsi and snacks), the library (to return a couple items and pick up a couple more), doing (and repairing) laundry, gathering up the truly impressive number of charging cords I think I need (I really do, though), learning Watson’s GPS (loaned so I won’t run off the road reading the directions and will instead veer off a bridge listening to them), making many piles of the things I’m taking (from the many lists I made yesterday), and trying to fit them all in two or three pieces of luggage.*

One of these pieces is my purse. Or, as my family calls it, The Bag:

The Bag is one foot by two feet, has eight pockets, and can easily fit a family of four, or at least several not-so metaphorical tons of their stuff.  In order to prep for this trip, I decided to clean out The Bag and then restock it with only the things I need for the trip.

But first, Watson made me weigh it:**  Seven pounds even.

I was impressed—it seemed heavier than that.

The content  varies from day to day, but this is what I’ve been schlepping around with me since the last time the contents of The Bag were allowed to settle:

Keys
Library ID
Phone
Aquaphor hand ointment
Hand sanitizer
One Barbie purse
One mint box containing a lucky rock
Five pads of a feminine nature
Four pencils, three with broken points
Five pens, including a 2″ one with pink ink and one green Sharpie
One beaded bracelet
An excellent book
One planner
One scribble book with “Keep Calm and Have a Cupcake” on the cover
One small graph-paper memo book
One CPR Face Shield
Six laminated double-sided knitting needles
A powder compact
A quarter-inch stack of 3×5″ cards
My wallet (contents also various)
Three dollars and eight-one cents (two bills and change)
Twenty-three crumpled receipts
The guarantee for Rocinante’s new windshield
One Splenda packet,
The plastic ball from a gumball machine toy
The butterfly zipper pull from Sunny’s jacket
A half-inch-worth of my business cards
One tablespoon of loose fortune cookie crumbs

I sorted out all the stuff, sharpened and capped the pencils, pitched the trash, gave back the things that weren’t mine, repacked the bag with only the essentials, and weighed it again.

Five pounds, six and three-fourths ounces.  That’s not so bad—and now there’s room in there for my three-pound Netbook, which was the ostensible point of this exercise.***

All that’s left to do before I head out at six o’clock tomorrow is . . . yeah, I’d better hit publish and get going.

See you on the Ohio side!

What’s in your pocketses?

_______________________________

*And then unpacking them, because I promised Sunny she could help when she came home from school.

*She also thought I should take that first image of it, before I emptied it out.   This would have been easy, if it weren’t for a certain furry-bottomed photobomber showing off his best side every single time I focused the frame.

***And also a blog post, I won’t lie.

Advertisement

26 thoughts on “Unpacking The Bag

  1. Is that you, peeking out from under that black thing?

    Have an amazing time at Boucheron.

    I’ll be interested to hear how you cope with GPS and listening to an audiobook. I get tetchy.

    • That’s me scattered all over the floor, Downith.

      But, yeah, that’s my photo ID under my phone—though it was taken five years ago, when I had longer hair and only one chin.

      • Dare I mention my “keychain of no responsibility”? Probably shouldn’t. It’s got Jada’s rabies tag on it and not much else, except a fabulous penguin floating in suspicious blue water that reminds me of a keychain version of a cyanide pill tooth. Your kids gave it to me. I suspect I might use it over Janie’s homework soon.

  2. I’m so excited for you! I hope you have a wonderful time.

    Inside my pocketbook are the usual – ID, checkbook, ATM card, a ridiculous number of reward cards for stores, hotels and airlines, a nail file, an embarrassing array of lipsticks and lipliners, calculator, coupons, chewing gum, Advil, Coca-Cola product bottle caps to put into my Coke rewards account, a pair of reading glasses, 3 pens, a small Moleskine, binder clips, a lighter, dental floss and my key chain with a tiny flashlight. Half of that stuff is kept in case I need to McGuyver myself out of a situation.

    The inside of my gorgeous red purse (a gift from Teri) is like the Tardis.

    • We’re sisters from another mister, Lisa. I have rewards cards for stores that went out of business six years ago . . .

      Advil— forgot to pack Advil! Thanks for the reminder!

    • I’m planning on having a great time, even if I spend my unscheduled hours sleeping, MSB! 🙂

      This is my second time at Bouchercon, mostly because I don’t have to fly to get there. Next year is in Albany, and that’s a bit far . . . Unless I can convince you to go?

      • If anybody can get me out of the shadows, it’s you. ‘Tho I have to admit, if I do fly the coop I’d rather run off to the cobblestone world of Europe. Speaking of which, I wonder how our friend Bobbi is doing.

  3. Have a wonderful time! Gah! So excited for you.

    My bag is like yours. Anything someone didn’t want to carry at some point forever lost in the abyss. Wallet, kindle, hardcover, datebook, train pass, work id, phone, two boy wallets (that both contain more money than I have), and six lipsticks (funny, that I never put it on). Dress shoes, two packets of tissues, train parking receipts (at least 20), hair ties, rubber bracelets in many colors…what isn’t in there?

    • When I hit the jackpot it’s gonna be gold leather and rhinestones all the way, baby! 😀

      I had actually found this bag in red, but it was just a bit lady o;’ the evening-ish, so . . .

Talk to me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s