So, Operations never wrote back to me about the demise of my bag in the plastic clutches of the ice cube maker, but that doesn't mean they did not respond. Today I peeked into the freezer, hoping that this might be the day that my manual dexterity and new biceps/triceps exercise would lead me to victory over my bag's frigid captor. Tragically, however, as I opened the freezer door and dodged the frozen pizza falling toward me, I realized that my bag was no longer a hostage-- it was a kidnapping victim. Yes, I checked behind the boxes of burritos and under that depressing popsicle from the ice cube tray. No sign of a struggle-- no scratches on the ice maker. A sad day indeed.
Or is it?
You see, in researching my initial post about my faithful little bag, I visited the ever-so-cloying Wishlist website, and I decided to have a look around. You can imagine what happened next. I mean, who am I to say no to a half-price Herve Chapelier bag and free shipping? It's an excellent deal on a fairly demure bag that is a good size for the days when I don't need to drag around a tote that is approximately the look and dimension of a spinnaker with handles. And besides, it's not terry cloth or the color of bubblegum. Sounds like a solid investment.
And as I walked back up to my office this morning, carrying the box containing my bag (I presumed), a thought dawned on me:
"I wonder if they gave me a new free Wishlist bag..."
So imagine my glee when there, under my delightfully tasteful and useful canvas tote, was the most godawful, heinous, garbage-bag-meets-gym-bag-hybrid-looking thing I have ever seen-- with Wishlist emblazoned in curly, pink script on each side.
It is seriously one of the trashiest things I have ever encountered in real life. I laughed when I saw it; it's that bad. But it zips closed and the handles are the right length-- i.e., they are short enough that they would never cause me to drag my zucchini on the ground or inadvertently feed it to a major appliance. So I sort of love it.
The universe is right again.