The Pale Purse

“Be content!” my 10-year old daughter told me.  She peeked over my shoulder to see what I was doing on my iPhone and saw that I was browsing through purses.  I asked her to remind me to be content when she saw me looking at purses online. She took this request to heart and never failed to do what I asked when she caught me.  I closed the window of the browser on my phone and looked at her.

“You’re right,”  I said, “But, they’re so pretty!”

Purses were a special weakness of mine that I allowed myself to indulge in.  I loved the feel of soft leather, the smell, the sound of a good zipper opening, and the organization potential of a new purse.  

I saw a beautiful pale purse when I walked through Marshalls.  There was a glowing aura around it that guided me to it. I took it off the rack it was hanging from and took a closer look.  It was made of buttery soft leather and there were metal decorative studs in front with slip pockets on either side. It had great organization potential.  I unzipped the main zipper. Oh heaven, the zipper was smooth and purposeful. The new-purse smell engulfed me. There was an inner wall zipper and pockets to put a cell phone and a pen slot.  It was a smaller purse but had all sorts of nooks and crannies to put away necessities and it was pretty. So pretty. The glow around the pale purse was getting brighter and my resolve to be content grew weaker.  

“Be content, Mom!”  I told myself.

I tried to remember that I don’t need another purse and that I am content with what I had and I had a lot of purses.  I pulled my purses from the disorganized shelf in my closet and laid them all out on my bed a few days ago. Dark leather and quilted fabric purses made up most of my collection.  I don’t have a pale purse. It would be perfect for the upcoming spring.

No!  I told myself.  I don’t need it.  I’ll walk away and do my errand at Walmart.  If I’m still thinking about the pale purse afterward I’ll go back to Marshalls.  Guilty pleasure crept in when I thought about owning the pale purse.

Forty-five minutes later I was back at Marshalls and followed the siren song to the hand bag section where I found the pale purse still glowing bright on the rack.

Oh, I was weakening.  I knew I didn’t need it but it was so gorgeous.  I should call someone for reinforcements. My husband?  No, he would tell me no. My sister? No, she would tell me yes.  What to do?

I decided to give the pale purse a test drive.  I pulled out my phone from my small black leather handbag to see how it would fit in the pale purse.  I slipped the phone into the phone slot inside the pale purse and zipped it closed. That’s such a nice zipper!  I opened the pale purse again and gave the pen slot a try. I slid my trusty Bic pen into the slot and closed the wonderful zipper.  The zipper would not zip over the pen. The pale purse’s siren song quieted. I shoved the pen down more. The zipper closed over it that time but there was a small bump where the zipper went over the pen.

The aura around the pale purse flickered, faded, and then went out.  I came to my senses when the siren song was silenced. I require a functional pen slot in my purses if they come equipped with one.  It was a deal-breaker.

I returned the pale purse back to the rack, satisfied with myself that I didn’t buy it.