I was rushing around the kitchen last night like a Cheetah on speed trying to get all the predinner cooking done. I had the kiddie table set up in the kitchen for the children to eat at since I’ve grown weary of picking food outta the carpet in the dining room. I had placed the groceries (i.e., raw ingredients) on that table along with my purse earlier that day. Somehow I knocked the purse to the floor and didn’t notice it. The out-of-place bag was brought to my attention when I tripped over it while carrying a dozen eggs. I recovered my balance, but the eggs landed on the floor. I said some naughty words that guaranteed that I wasn’t going to get a visit from Santa, then kicked the offending piece of leather across the floor. I mopped up the worst of the carnage, then got back to cooking and didn’t think of it again.
Not until this evening, in fact. I was taking an overflowing garbage bag out of the trash can when I noted a brown something behind the trash can. I moved the trash can out. There was my forgotten purse, sitting wide open, with the contents inside of a plastic plate that had gone over the top of the garbage bag and had landed, instead, in the purse.
So, I removed a turkey leg bone with a few strips of meat left, some smashed taters, and mushy fruit salad. Oh, THAT’s gonna leave a mark. I think I may be shopping for a new purse soon. VERY soon.