In Memoriam

I said goodbye to a dear friend last night.

This one's for you, Old Mustard Yellow Purse.

I still remember the first time I laid eyes on you - it was my birthday, and you emerged from that gift bag like a breath of fresh, mountain air.

No longer was I forced to carry all my worldly possessions on a carabiner attached to my belt loop. I'm not sure why I ever found this method appealing; it was loud, it was heavy, and I looked like a giant tool.

You really changed my life, Old Mustard Yellow Purse.

Remember how you used to suck down Tide To Go pens like they were Capri Suns? You used to love that joke.

I could always count on you to hold my stuff. It wasn't your fault there were always random pills strewn about your insides; those bottles just couldn't keep it together quite like you could.

Sure, you got a little sloppy in your old age, but I didn't care. I was never ashamed to be seen with you, even when you started moulting your pleather outer layers all over my house and car.

No - I would have continued to cart you around until there was nothing left to you but a cheap, muslin carcass.

It wasn't until you began to lose your structural integrity that I even considered parting with you. Once that started to go, I knew we had precious little time left to be together, but I tried to make it special for you.

I'll always cherish the memories of those last few days...trips to Walmart, letting Brutus lovingly sniff you for food, and stuffing you full of useless paper after useless paper until neither of us could find the grocery list if our lives depended on it. (I can see now that was a little insensitive, seeing as your life was already in jeopardy without worrying about whether or not I needed mayonnaise.)

I tried to make your transition out of this life as painless as possible. I started setting you down only on the recliner so you wouldn't have to suffer on the cold, hard floor.

I didn't bring you with me to Target last night because I didn't want you to have to watch me pick out your replacement, New Mustard Yellow Purse. Don't worry, she'll never replace you. (Well, I guess technically...she will.)

I wrapped you tenderly in a grocery bag before gently depositing you in the trash can, so as to protect you from experiencing the humiliation of getting all sticky and gross. You know why? Because you deserve better than that.

You were a great bag; a loyal companion; an occasional emergency pillow substitute - and I just want to say thank you for everything.

Goodbye, Old Mustard Yellow Purse.

I'll miss you real bag, I mean bad.

You were tote-ally awesome.

I'll do my best to carry-on without you.

You were a wonderful purse-on.

I'm so satchel never get to meet my children. (That one's kind of a stretch...but swish it around a little; it'll come to you.)

P.S. I hope you can forgive me for flagrantly exploiting your death for the sake of a string of what may be the worst jokes of all time.