A few weeks ago, if you’ll recall, John “accidentally” broke the strap of my pocketbook and I was mildly devastated. I’d been carrying that thing across my body for like two years. Bought it at TJ Maxx for $10 and it’s everything I need in a bag. It’s got all those nifty little compartments and since I tend to fly a lot, it’s a cinch getting to my ID and credit cards and all that jazz. Anyway, since that hateful incident with the car door and John’s super human strength, I’ve been using a safety pin to hold it together. Yesterday, we drove to Webster, MA for the sole purpose of eating at Friendly's – a fine New England institution and home of the Fishamajig and the Fribble. We ate burgers and a Whoopie Pie sundae and as we’re strolling through the parking lot I notice a new consignment store has opened next door. Here’s where it gets good. I’m browsing and quickly figuring out that there are no books and little kitsch and so I’m probably wasting my time when, BAM! My pocketbook falls to the floor. I pick it up and sure enough, the safety pin has popped open. This is the first time this has happened and I’m thinking damn, now it’s gonna happen from now on and I’m gonna tear my old bag up piercing it with new pin holes and eventually it’s just gonna tear and I’ll have to break down and buy a new one. So I head over to the pocketbook section and I’m sure you can guess what I found. Brand new. With tags. For $4. The same damn bag. Only the new one’s green and my old one was purple. Seriously, you can’t make this crap up. It’s like the time my friend Lynn found a scarf that was hand-knitted in Iceland for $3 at the Goodwill. This was like two weeks after she had just gotten back home from her vacation in Iceland and she said everything costs about a jillion dollars over there and she refused to pay $75 for a scarf.