Purse Ponderments

Today, we are going to ponder purses.

But first, I have to let you know that in the south, they don't say "purse," they say "pocketbook." Even though I have been a southern gal since I was sixteen, I have not yet been able to make that particular southernism switch. Hence the non-southernized title of this post.

First of all, let my introduce you to my purse.

I bought it because it is bronzy/gold and goes with everything. I quite dislike having to switch out purses with every outfit and so the bronze purse is a winner in my book.

Got that?

Now. This is my shopping purse. Let us all ponder it together. (It's actually a fairly expensive brand--Sak--which I got for four bucks at a thrift store.)


Are you done pondering?

Okay. And this is where I make the declaration that my husband, as wonderful as he is, has no foggy idea why a woman needs to have a shopping purse. Every time I say to him, "Hold on a minute; I need to grab my shopping purse," he stops dead in his tracks and a look of puzzled befuddlement crosses his handsome visage.

And every single time he asks, "Tell me again just WHY you need to have a shopping purse?"

And I think to myself, "If you have to ask, I'm not even going to tell you!"

However. Since you are my blogging buds, I am going to tell you. Just to see if you think the concept makes sense. Even though my husband doesn't.

But I'm not offended.

Much.

Sniff.

Okay, here's my rational.

My regular purse contains within its voluminous depths half of the manufactured goods from the western part of the free world. I am one of those over-prepared women who has everything you could possibly need, want, or desire stashed somewhere in my purse.

However. When I go into a store to shop and I know that I will be there for longer than fifteen minutes (not including grocery stores) I always switch over to my shopping purse which I keep in the van.

The reason? I don't want to carry half of the manufactured items from the western part of the free world into the store with me.

I want to carry three things.

My wallet.

My phone.

A tissue.

Oh yes. And my keys. (Four things.)

And yet, every time I get ready to head out of the car with my shopping purse, Steve steadfastly says, "Why do you need your shopping purse?"

And in reply, I lovingly turn in his direction, smile sweetly and whop him upside with head with it.

And then he doesn't ask me any more. (Because he is unconscious.)

Well, at least he doesn't ask until the next time.

How about you? Do you have an inscrutable habit or action that makes your spouse wonder about the remnants of your sanity?

Please do tell!

Also, please let me know that you think having a shopping purse is a perfectly fine and wonderful and brilliant and fabulous idea.

Thank you for your support.