Monday, November 29, 2010

What's in the Bag?

Given the unsettling reality of an impending golden birthday and a really bad photo of my purse, what are my choices?

I suppose I could meditate on my shortcomings, or alternatively on my longcomings, which sound suspiciously like every airplane journey I've undertaken. I could take stock, restock, make stock, whatever it is you are supposed to do upon milestone birthdays of this nature. I could contemplate the big questions: Why am I here? Where am I going? Where have I been?

I select option X: Beating a hasty retreat. For the next 24 hours, instead of answering horrifically introspective interrogations only a mother could love, I will answer concrete, small-scale, docile questions of the sort that appear on mental status exams for the doddering.

First up: What's in my purse?

(This question reminds me, unfortunately and forcefully, of a small, grating song called What's in the Bag I composed for the singular purpose of arousing curiosity in two-year-olds. What's in the Bag,in case you were wondering, features repeated yodeling of the titular line accompanied by the agitation of a paper sack.)

What's in my purse is a nonthreatening yet mildly revelatory question to which I can supply a concrete answer:

  • Directions to Charlottesville
  • MTA Metrocard
  • MTA Metrocard Single Ride ticket
  • Lutenist's address and phone number
  • Bassoon player's phone number
  • Address of dermatological resident
  • 84 NE Regional train arrival table
  • Cheap sunglasses
  • Wallet & contents
  • 2 gold dollars featuring John Quincy Adams
  • Bank statement
  • $0.69
You heard it here first.

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