2004-08-10 - 8:49 p.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "And He Shall Purify", from Handel's "Messiah"

Being home after a long trip away feels really weird. Usually I've completely abandoned most of my regular routines, and reassuming them feels strange. Some of 'em I have almost forgotten. I forgot about "cookie time", wherein I allow myself two trans-fat-laden cookies with milk after lunch. I was surprised to have to deal with Poindexter's dishes again, for example (he buses his own or his mother gets 'em while we're at her house). In an effort to try to feel "at home" again in my own home, I've been doing some cleaning and organizational shit in the evenings.

Speaking of organizing. In my continuing effort to be an inobtrusive guest, I have always tried to keep my toiletries in a toiletry bag rather than littering the vanity top with them, since if anybody else comes by the house, it's the guest bathroom they'll be using. But I am lazy, and I'd rather have my toiletries littering the vanity top so they're easily accessible. Plus I hate digging in the bag for the specific items I need.

Finally I figured it out: Tupperware. I'm becoming convinced that Tupperware is the answer to everything. I asked MIL if I could borrow a couple of her disposable Ziploc containers, and put all my face-washing items in one (makeup remover, Cetaphil, Duac) and my bath items in another (razors, shaving cream, pumice, loofah, shampoo, post-shave lotion). So I just bring everything out in one fell swoop and put it all back just as easily. I told MIL -- who, along with Kit and Camille, sparked my interest in organization -- about my plans and she was quite proud of me.

This past weekend, I re-created this here at home, and created a "shaving kit" version for Poindexter's shaving items. To keep from being completely anal, I left the toothbrushes and toothpaste in their big SF Giants mug on the countertop.

My new thing lately is bags. Like, purses. Up 'til this point I've been using the same black backpack-like bag all the time, winter and summer. I've got a brown bag I wear when I put on my little brown outfits. A couple of formal small bags, and that's it. I still hate purse-y purses -- those medium-size shapeless bags that everybody's mom carries everything in but the kitchen sink. But I've noticed that there are some seriously cute smaller bags that go over the shoulder and fit in the armpit that would still hold my required items, the bulkiest of which are my saline solution and glasses case.

So, last week when I was shopping with my SIL and nieces in Florida I picked up two bags at Charlotte Russe: an adorable girly pink purse, and something that looks like the purse equivalent of a motorcycle jacket. Check 'em out:

Each cost me $15. My last day there, I went to a ritzy mall and wandered into Nordstrom or someplace, and found a designer bag, larger but in a style reminiscent of the black bag above, with a price tag of SEVEN HUNDRED AND NINETY-FIVE DOLLARS. That just blows me away. I'm going to get a lot of happiness and even look semi-fashionable (we all know how Philadelphia is the most fashionable city in the nation) with my fifteen-dollar bag, and here one costs $795 just 'cause some guy named Kenneth put his name on it. That whole haute couture thing is a little beyond my comprehension. I believe in paying for good quality, but there's a point of diminishing returns here for me and I can't quite ever see the name or originality meaning enough to me to cough up that kind of money.

I was sitting on the couch squished next to my husband, who was reading "Nobody's Fool". I was looking at Poindexter's feet. I've been a grossly unobservant wife -- I just noticed that each successive toe of his is shorter than the one preceding it. My second toe, the toe just after the big toe on my feet, is taller than my big toe. Who is the freak? Me or Poindexter? He tells me I am "abbie-normal", just like his mother, who has the same thing going on with her feet. I had no idea.

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