I just found a Killer Brownie in my purse. I’d purchased it at least a month ago for Ben, then promptly forgot about it. It’s been in the “checkbook” pocket of my purse, which, I admit, has been feeling a little bulky as of late. (Killer Brownies are not called Killer Brownies because they are tiny.) Ben says he still wants the brownie, but I’m not sure about the shelf life of these things. I’m leaving the decision up to him.
Here are two other stories of Purse Food.
In middle school — long before my 8th grade band director got accused of sexually harassing a student — I travelled with my fellow concert band musicians to Atlanta, Georgia to play at some sort of invitational. Before the concert, several of us climbed into an elevator that stopped working between floors. (This, I have a feeling, helped to solidify my ever-growing fear of physical entrapment.) So excited to play the clarinet for the people of Atlanta, I didn’t eat breakfast, causing a hypoglycemic attack. I became dizzy and asked to sit down in the center of the elevator. People — adults — did not like this idea. Instead, I endured the wait for rescue eating, strand by strand, a piece of string cheese that one of the moms had in her purse. I remember thinking it was strange and a little gross that she carried cheese in her purse and probably never properly thanked her for saving my life.
Last spring, while travelling on a bus in Nicaragua, I purchased a snack involving chicken on the bone. I placed the bones in a baggie in my purse and promptly forgot about the remains. The next morning, I awoke to find an ant colony with the population of China taking residence in my bag. It wasn’t fun.
I think that the moral of these stories is to periodically check one’s purse or handbag for food. Whether or not to keep the food in the bag is up to you and your desired outcome. But it’s always good to know whether it’s there.