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"I'm still not used to your man-purse," Michele remarked.
"It's a satchel, dammit!" I responded.
I think she said, "Whatever," as she waved dismissively and went back to reading her book.
She had asked me where a receipt was. It was in my wallet, which was in my satchel, which was hanging efficiently on the closet doorknob. My cell phone, keys and sunglass case where also in my satchel. I think it is a great idea, but no-dumb-body else has said anything remotely encouraging. Sheesh.
I thought of the satchel idea early this summer. During the winter I wear coats with enough pockets to lug my assorted gear. If I change coats I shift the gear. If I don't remember to shift all the gear I end up somewhere without something I need.
It is not a good system in the winter, and it is impossible in the summer. In the summer, with limited pockets, I ended up sloppily hand-carrying my necessities every time I left the house. So I dug around and found an old green canvas army surplus bag. It has a strap, a simple buckle and a few flapped outside pockets. I didn't even have to shop for it. We'd had it for years. It is very serviceable, practical and manly---but apparently not manly enough.
Michele is not the only derisive commentator. The other snipers have also been people I know. Maybe I should circulate in a more enlightened crowd, or a more historically-aware crowd, a crowd that knows what a sporran is (the bag a Scotsman wears with his kilt).
I am discreet when I mingle with the public, usually extracting only what I need from the satchel, then leaving it in the car while I shop. One doesn't want to taunt the ignorant.
Oh, for a more tolerant world, where a man can carry his satchel without stress, where a man can be admired for solving his personal cargo problem, and where...wait a minute...and where I can sell a boatload of these army surplus bags! What an idea! I've got marketing work to do!
Root for me, brothers and sisters. I'm doing what I can.
