When I started my job at Marylhurst University, I realized I would need a satchel. I also wanted to mark the occasion by buying something that would last me the rest of my life. It was my intention to help a small maker, and I found a leather worker on Etsy that had some of the most beautiful bags I’d ever seen.
I chose a messenger bag that looks red or brown, depending on the light. I polish it with cordovan just to accent the red that’s already there. The only problem is that it tends to make my shoulder want to drop off when it’s full, so it’s perfect for carrying a few things, but torture to put my whole life in it.
It’s so beautiful it should go in a display, but after an hour I’m begging to put it down. So maybe I should put it in a display. It would look good with my autographed spy books.
Speaking of which, the funniest thing I’ve ever heard about collecting old spies’ books is that it’s like collecting baseball cards, you just never get a rookie year.
I had to change to a Reebok backpack, but I’m hoping that I can do something to soften up the leather. So far, the polishing has made it look nice, but it’s still stiff as a board.
Trying to look at the positive on this one, because the bag is absolutely the most expensive personal item I’ve ever bought. It was more than my last desktop by a large margin. I don’t regret spending the money in the slightest, because every time I look at the bag, I remember a time in my life I really loved.
It’s more how to look at it that presents a problem. Right now, it’s stuffed in a closet somewhere.
I’m sure that my dad has wondered why I don’t carry it, and now he has the answer. It hurts.
That’s because he’s the only one in my life that would remember when I bought it. He surprised me with a work GoFundMe so I could outfit my office. The bag was the biggest ticket item for the shower.
I’d never had a work shower before, and it was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Well, giving me life might count.
Stories That Are All True 