Trying to find a place for my stuff

This is my new bag. New trip, new bag: that’s the equation. The Sak Travel Weekender, very large, quite light, mostly leather, some canvas. Got it from ebags.com for almost half the price it lists for, plus their shipping is free and FAST. LOVE EBAGS.

I bought another bag. 

If there’s an issue that divides the sexes, it has to be the subject of women’s need for bags.

Bags seem so ubiquitous, so innocuous, don’t they? But no! Bag-acquisition, or just bag-quisition for those of us who are obsessed, is a full-time job, performed out of the corner of one eye as you do everything else.

Those of us who are bag-obsessed are not really paying attention to you when we’re out shopping or at home, online, cruising bag suppliers, many of whom sell thousands of varieties, styles, sizes—far too many, actually, which makes finding one difficult, since there are so many to wade through.

When I’m half-paying attention to you, it means I’ve probably found a good—but not perfect—bag, and I’m assessing it for potential. Were it perfect, this process would take much less time, and I’d have to do a lot less work to determine all the ways in which it isn’t perfect and ways I’m going to have to try to adapt to its imperfections. This takes time and brain-cycles, and is, ultimately, a lot of work.

The thing about bags, I’ve found, is that men simply do not understand the need for them, and you can’t easily convince a man to carry a bag, even a “man bag,” largely because—well, the reasons are legion, aren’t they? Men turn up their collective noses at the simple need to carry their stuff in a “bag,” but are willing to carry a briefcase.

Go figure. It’s still a bag, men. It’s still a bag. 

“Everyone’s got something they have too many of,” I whine in self-defense when someone male invariably shrieks “Another bag???” in that tone they get when they don’t understand, or approve of, your obsession. 

George Carlin once created an entire standup routine around the subject of containing our stuff. I think he felt that stuff was absurd, but necessary, so he accepted it and made his living making fun of humankind’s need for Stuff.

All the bag-obsessed are trying to do, you see, is find the perfect container for the stuff we happen to have in the moment. “The Perfect Container,” of course, changes depending on A) What you’re carrying and B) What you’re wearing, hence the quest for The Perfect Bag, a chimera if there ever was one.

If I had the perfect bag, of course, its shape, color, size, and material would morph, chameleon-like, with each use. I would bow down to the Heavens and the power of the Gods if I had that bag. I have even tried to design the perfect bag, but have (mostly) given up, except when I’m cruising online bag stores or passing bricks-and-mortar stores, one eye on the bags in the window, the other on the price tag. Did I mention that the perfect bag is inexpensive?

If there was one perfect bag, I’d have it, and all the men in the world would breathe a collective sigh of relief, and go back to reading their tool catalog or whatever it is they’re obsessed with.

“You bought ANOTHER wrench???” we ask, incredulously, since everyone knows you only need one wrench, right?? 

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