On the Mysteries of Handbags

One of the best things about living in a tiny house where absolutely everything has been minutely inventoried and precisely located is that it’s impossible to lose anything. Ask me where anything in my house is from table napkins to cotton buds and I can give an answer in less time than it takes to say the word “Where—?” (For the former, look in the utility closet/bottom shelf/plastic tub on the upper left; for the latter, look in the bathroom; green basket; white tub.)

This, at least, should be one of the benefits—theoretically speaking. And it’s a theory that’s been proven enough times in practical fact—except for half a dozen bewildering instances over the last few months when some objects began mysteriously disappearing, to wit: my Globe Visibility device, Abbey’s thumb drive, my brother’s thumb drive, an earring, and three pens of sentimental if otherwise negligible value. The actual loss of the items vexed me far less than my inability to account for their disappearance: they vanished too abruptly and inexplicably.

Things reached a head this morning when I lost yet another thumb drive. Abbey listened skeptically while I swore—with mounting exasperation—that “I-put-it-in-my-handbag-yesterday-I-know-I-really-did-and-I-didn’t-take-it-out-since-so-where-could-it-have-gone?” At some point in the middle of my wild gesticulation, she grabbed the bag in question and began rummaging in it with a thoroughness that would have impressed a prostate specialist. After five seconds, her face went totally blank—before furrowing in sudden concentration. And voilà, in a matter of minutes, the various lost objects of our household began materializing—including a few whose existence had been altogether forgotten.

My mind—always so quick to attribute causality to the absurd—was already speculating on the fascinating if somewhat disconcerting possibility of my handbag containing a wormhole or gestating a baby Bermuda Triangle when Abbey wryly interrupted:

“Your bag’s lining has a hole. A small one, but big enough for a lot of things to fall through. No wonder you’ve been losing things.”

“Oh.” I said somewhat dispiritedly. Then realizing that an annoying enigma had finally been resolved, I said: “Ohhh . . . ”

All of which simply means that I should be checking all my other handbags. Who knows what I’ll find?


6 thoughts on “On the Mysteries of Handbags

  1. Justine says:

    This happened to me! Hahaha! Not only do things disappear in my handbag, it’s hard for me to fish things out of it like house keys. While rummaging, my husband has opened the door and put away some groceries!


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