We broke out my collection of bags to see if one would work for Honey as a laptop bag.  He’s taking some classes, and didn’t want to go backpack shopping if there was an acceptable substitute in the closet.

As I’ve mentioned, we’ve moved a lot.  I moved a lot before we got together.  Switching jobs, and acquisition of new bags during transitions, led to some odd discoveries.

My old Mont Blanc ballpoint.

My outdated passports, still unstamped.

My birth certificate, Social Security card, and current passport — also still unstamped.

Five hair picks.

Three sanitary napkins.

Authenticity doodad from bag maker.

Pounds of paper — desk notes, playlists, haiku, and other office doodlings, plus handouts from SCA events, and the duplicate Avon catalogues pressed on me by a coworker and a client who both wanted me to buy stuff.

My little black bag.  This is the gem.  It was meant to be a pencil bag for school, and is just a black, zippered envelope of some tough synthetic material.  I’ve always had it.  Here is the diamond file my Grandma gave me when I went off to college.  Here are the three cards of antihistamines that are now a controlled substance, long since expired.  Here are the first Wet ‘n’ Wild sticks I ever bought, #649 for my eyes, mink brown, and #666 for my lips, wood rose.  A hair clip.  A handi-wipe.  Tanning-bed eye protectors, from when I tried to elevate my mood through UV rays.  Alka-Seltzer, my go-to medication.  And a stained strip of a washcloth from our trip to the Emergency Room back in 2004, when Honey was cutting leather to make cuisses and took off the end of his thumb.

I’m salvaging what I can and ditching the rest, but even after doing without it for so long, my first reaction was delight that I’d finally found my little black bag, and that I must immediately restore it to its natural place in my current purse.  This was the thing that held my little things for so many years.  It’s strange how attached I feel to it.

But I’m keeping the things, and discarding the garbage, and the baggage counts as garbage now, too.