Worm Hole in Space

I have a secret….. I am afraid of my purse.

No, it’s not the stale Cheerios scattered at the bottom that gives me the creeps. Not the lost, dirty Kleenex that puts my hair on ends. And, it is not the gum clinging to the side that gives me the willies either.

It’s the secret pocket.

When I purchased this bag there were no warnings about a secret pocket. No tags advising to purchase at your own risk. No buyer beware. Nothing.

Truthfully, I had no idea that a secret pocket existed until …well, things began to happen.

It started with some spare change at Starbucks. “Oh, thanks! I’ve been looking for the Nebraska quarter!” I naively chirped, tossing the coins into the “to be filed later” section of my purse. (Yes, that means they would be rubbing elbows with the “to be filed later” crumbling Cheerios partying in the deepest crevices of my purse.)

For days, I heard the coins jingle in my purse.

“Gotta file those..”

Then, one afternoon, I dumped my purse out…well, OK, my toddler dumped my purse out…… in the middle of the grocery cart, but that’s another story. The coins were gone. Missing. MIA. They had simply vanished. After a panicked swipe of my toddler’s mouth, I dismissed the odd occurrence. I filed it under “weird” …oh, and embarrassing…. and continued about my day.

Then, we had the lipstick incident. Things took a turn for the worse.

It was a certain lipstick that played a “now you see me, now you don’t” game with me in my purse for the better part of the week. Ordinarily, I would have just shrugged off the mystery and run to the local Walgreen’s for another quick purchase at the Wet and Wild display counter, but, Heck, budget’s tight these days! Gotta stretch that $1.99 as far as we can go…

So, here we go …another dumping of the purse. After shooing away a furry, 8 legged friend…or two…that had apparently taken up residence ….and averting my eyes from the gelatinous, gummy, quivering mass that seemed to be mating with my day planner, I came to the quick conclusion that this lipstick was NOT there!

My temper began to boil just beneath my “I’m-a-nice-person-who-once-worked-with-disadvantaged-youths” façade.

“Where is that freaking froupin' nickel knuckle knickerbukker….” I searched my imagination for the most colorful swear words in my (limited and shrinking, thank you) vocabulary.

After a good working over, I tossed the purse to the floor. There was a clunk sound as it hit the ground. A clunk sound that shouldn’t be heard when yarn macramé hits linoleum. Grabbing the bag by her (I hope it was a her) innards, I turned the whole kit and caboodle inside out to discover a hole in the stained, satiny inner lining.

A hole, as in a black hole, a time warp, a worm hole in space? Perhaps?

Peering through this hole, I found my lipstick! She was floating in a sea of Cheerios, between the macramé and satin lining, clinging desperately to a Nebraska quarter.

I was so happy to see her that I immediately swept her in my arms and kissed her. I applied her to my dry, colorless lips and promised to be a better Wet and Wild lipstick owner.

A hole in the lining! HA! Explains everything. Now, if someone could just explain the ransom note pinned to my lipstick’s chest, we’ll have a mystery solved.

Purse mafia, ya think?