Delusions of Grandeur

A few weekends ago Ruth and Rachel went on a business trip to New Mexico. I dropped them off at the airport and returned to my condo, but for some reason it didn't feel like my condo anymore. It was a painful step back through the looking glass and while everything looked the same, it just wasn't. It was quiet, it was cold... it was boring.

"Two days of this? What am I going to do with myself." I thought as I stood in the center of my living room. After a bit of moping around I picked myself up and started to take care of the things that I had been putting off. Since the twins had moved in, my ability to finish my chores in a timely manner had completely disappeared.

Before she had left, Ruth had been frantically searching her room for her ID and a misplaced necklace. The necklace had some sentimental value, so it's loss seemed to hit her especially hard. That combined with the stress of the business trip had her very much on edge. I tried to help her search for the items, and tried to comfort her, but for the most part I was no help at all.

Saturday evening she called me from New Mexico to tell me that she had now lost her coach bag which contained all of her money and cards. By this time she seemed quite devastated by the happenings of her week, and almost 500 miles away I felt quite incapable of helping to fix the situation.

Sunday morning I awoke with a renewed vigor and set out for the mall with a confidence quite foreign to me. My plan was to go to Dillard's and purchase a replacement coach bag in hopes that a surprise of that nature would at least alleviate some of the stress from a horrible week. She was my pretend girlfriend, and if she was down, I was going to help.

On my way to... not just any mall, but the Scottsdale Fashion Square, I stopped by Erik's house. I informed him of my plans. After listening, he took a moment to question my bag purchasing ability which gave me pause.

I'd seen the bag before... It was small... and white... and it had some... stuff on it... How hard could it really be to replace it? "How many different small white ladies bags could there possibly be?" I thought to myself.

I dismissed his skepticism and proceeded to the mall where I was quickly reminded, I don't belong here. For the first time in my Sunday morning quest I began to doubt. I sifted through the myriad rows of purses and handbags searching, hoping for the bag that would end the torture that was this trip to the mall. After about an hour of looking, exhausted, I relented. The mall had won.

Dejected, I returned home to the emptiness that was my condo. Shortly after Ruthie called.
"Oh, someone found my purse and I got it back minus the cash"