“Oh no I did-n’t!”
(Pippa’s backside. Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)
I did resist the first two availabilities of the bag last spring and summer before it sold out both times (self pat on the back) but when it came back again in September I heard that little ‘ugly American’-Californian voice in my head with the bad British accent say, “Why the bloody hell not?” (apologizes to all proper speaking Brits out there).
Besides, the psychological impact of seeing the price in pounds made it much easier to send my order across the pond. I have lots of tricks for justification.
Still, I haven’t taken her out for a spin yet. I wanted to save her debut for a trip we had planned to take to DC this week to visit our friends and congressman but we opted for a spring invitation instead. Dark croc in the spring? I don’t think so. Now I’m feeling a little guilty because I really didn’t need a new bag especially since my travel plans did not come to fruition.
Do I feel guilty enough to return her? No.
When I do get a new bag, I like to admire what I love about it for awhile until I take the plunge to expose it to all the nasty elements in the world.
And like a good mother who worries unnecessarily I know when I remove all the protective plastic strips on the name plates, it’ll be open season. It’s like anything new you want to keep pristine – the new car - until you set the first coffee or soda in the clean cup holder and it inevitably spills.
Then that ugly American-Californian voice with the bad British accent speaks to me again…
“Bloody hell. We need to go Christmas shopping!” and out the door we go - in my new car - with a grande misto, decaf, non-fat, no foam.