There are times I need to remind myself to close my purse. You know, when I’m walking though a crowd or when it’s pouring rain. Most of the time though, I walk with the zip gaping open for ease of access.
Every morning I park my car in a nearby park lot and walk to work. It isn’t far, maybe 3-5 minutes depending on parking-spot and pace, but it’s a lovely walk. I just prefer the meandering one when traffic is good vs. the trot on some of the traffic nightmares of late.
This particular morning; however, I had plenty of time. I had wandered along, taking pictures of the beautiful morning sun shining over the boats in the nearby harbour. When I got to my desk I performed my daily routine of pulling out my glasses cases and rooting around at the bottom of my bag for my lip balm. As I was rooting I saw some movement in my bag. At first I thought I was seeing things, because as I moved items around I saw nothing, that is, until I suddenly saw a bug march out from underneath my change purse. At this point, I still hadn’t identified the bug as it had moved so quickly and I had far too many “things” in my purse, so I started to haul some of them out.
THEN and only then, did I realize it was a bee! I had a bee in my purse!
Freaking out, I upended the remaining contents of my bag on the floor right in front of me, scattering my bits and bobs (luckily nothing embarrassing, as I was already taking care of that by flinging my possessions all over while squealing over the bee). When the bag was empty I placed it on my desk and smashed it with my fist over and over before cautiously opening it to see if the creature was dead. It wasn’t there.
I started to desperately check the piles to stuff to see if it had joined the contents of my purse on the floor, but nope, no dice.
I eyed my empty purse trepidatiously and cautiously opened the bag to take another look. I turned it and shook it, then carefully peeked in the various pockets. Lo-and-behold, there it was, in the tiniest pocket, the one where my lip balm should be, but never is.
Then he/she(?) hops out onto my desk and then proceeds to walk UNDER it. I’m still squealing (thank goodness the entire office wasn’t in yet because seriously…way to make an impression right?) I lift my foot and quickly as a Ninja I knocked that sucker onto the floor and then stamped on it, over and over and over. Then I checked.
Nope, still not dead.
A bit more stamping and finally, the poor little bee that was in the wrong purse at the wrong time shuffled off this mortal coil.
Rest in “pieces” little bee; I’m sorry, but it was you or me.