
I love my purse. I know it sounds sort of superficial, but it is true I do love it. It comes with a story, which most everything I do, purchase or experience does.
About this time last year, my hubby John and I were on one of our quarterly mini-moons, and as usual I was on the hunt for the perfect bag. John was sitting in chair after chair as I tried on purse after purse. He doesn’t understand trying on something you carry, but you know what I am talking about. A purse has to match my curves. That night we went back to our KC apartment with no new purse.
And the next day the quest began again, until John uttered those green light words, “let’s just go to the coach store and get a purse and stop all this trying on, purchasing one dissatisfying bag after another, and this incessant hunting!” Those weren’t his exact words, but that is what he meant.
What a wonderful idea! This was not my strategy. I was not trying to wiggle him into this declaration. But I was in complete agreement. And so we went.
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