On the way to see “Inception,” with my parents last Sunday, my mom noticed my pink tote that I had bought from an Etsy vendor last year. She proceeded to comment which went something like the following.
Mom: Why are you carrying that bag?
Me: No answer. Since we had already had this fruitless discussion a couple of days before, I was reading the scroll of answers streaming forth on my frontal lobe, trying to figure out which answer would be the best answer.
Mom: What’s in that bag?
Me: Still reading my frontal lobe scroll.
Mom: Why do you feel the need to carry everything with you? Oh, I know why…
Me: Scroll reading.
I wasn’t ignoring my mom. Actually, I was making squeaking, incomprehensible protestations while I was reading my frontal lobe scroll. However, sitting in the movies in a bad mood over the insides of my tote and why I felt the need to carry everything with me was an argument I was trying to avoid. Invariably, my answer would not be good enough for her, hence the squeaking on my part.
Earlier that day, I had found a tear in the seam on my favorite carry-all green and brown purse that I had bought from Goodwill last year. Preserving my purse for another season was the motivating factor for the change.
Stuff in the tote is what I carry. Initially, I bought the tote to carry groceries home from the store. It was made from canvas and would be sturdy enough to carry my stuff, and, it held much more than my purse.
So, yea, I probably over-stuffed it which of course caused me lean to one side which in turn prompted my mother’s probe. Am I starting to sound combative?