Everything but the Kitchen Sink

For me, one of the more interesting mysteries in life is the difference in how men and women carry their necessities with them. Now, guys carry in their back pocket what is referred to as a wallet. It carries all of the essential items a man will ever need: money, credit cards, pictures, driver’s license, social security card, etc. If it won’t fit into the wallet it isn’t worth taking.

But with women it’s a whole other matter. My ex-wife, for instance, couldn’t go anywhere without carrying a bag bigger than the one Santa Clause uses when delivering toys.

I think it started when eldest child was born. How was I, a naïve kid of 21, supposed to know that having a child meant bringing a whole arsenal of equipment along where ever we’d go? Instead of a diaper bag we could have used a pirate’s chest big enough to hold a Shetland pony. Between the 10 million diapers, the 20 million diaper pins (yes, we used cloth diapers), the 5,000 baby bottles, and all of the play things from a Toys-R-Us store, we needed a U-Haul to carry it all just to visit my parents . . . and they lived just a block away!

Of course, you know who did all of the toting, me. Why, when eldest child was born I swear my feet and hands instantly turned into hooves. I started walking on all fours, and my ears grew long and pointed. When asked a question, instead of answering it in English, I’d answer it with, “Hee haw, hee haw.” My how I quickly gained a healthy respect for my distant four-legged cousin the pack mule.

Now, one would think that after the kids were out of diapers former Mrs. Bagley would’ve downsize her carrying bag to a pocket book or at least to an average sized purse. WRONG! She continued to carry with her a satchel that puts the duffle bag of any professional sports player to shame.

What all she carried in there I never did find out. I mean, she had so much stuff in there I could’ve rummaged through it for a week and not seen the same item twice—I once found a dead cockroach and enough change in there to fill a bank vault.

Funny thing was, she not only knew what she had in that satchel but she also knew where every item was located. If we were away from home and in need of some odd thing like say a tire patch kit, seemingly out of no where ex-wife would produce one.

Actually, it’s my belief that former Mrs. Bagley inherited this character flaw from her mother. Boy could that woman fill a handbag. Like they say, she stuffed everything in there but the kitchen sink.

One time when her parents were visiting I had bronchitis, and it was my job to take them around town to see the sites. Anytime I displayed an outward sign of my illness, SHAZAM! Like Florence Nightingale, ex-mother-in-law would dip a hand into “Nurse June’s” carry-all bag and produce the correct medicine to ease the symptom. Cough drops, Aspergum, throat spray, you name it, it went in me—thank goodness the one thing she didn’t have in that bag was Preparation-H.

But you know, though I get a chuckle over women and their carrying bags, there’s usually something in them that I need. Now that I think of it, I should’ve had former wife search her bag for that five-man-tent we misplaced when moving here. Who knows? It might have been in there.