So I'll bet that you're thinking that that time I posted a picture of my drying laundry here in my diary is the dullest thing you've ever seen, eh.

You could think that.

But you would be so wrong.

Because tonight, in preparation for going out and running yet another endless list of errands tomorrow, I cleaned out the seething morass that is my purse AND I AM INCLUDING A PICTURE OF THIS ON MY DIARY.

*Insert maniacal laughter of your choice here.*

Shall we deconstruct Marn from the contents of her purse? Hmmmm, let's see. A lot of it is prosaic--chequebook, bank books, gas card, extra car key, car insurance and registration holder, stamps, calculator, wallet full of assorted ID and cards, receipts for bills paid, Montreal transit tickets. So far, so normal.

There's stuff about donating blood, but I did that just the other day, so I suppose it's okay it's there ? if it was still in there a few months from now it might be worrisome. Hauling around souvenirs of a blood letting? Duh duh DUH.

But what's this business with five, count 'em FIVE pens in my purse? That looks frighteningly anal. And then there's the moist towelettes which bespeak a slight obsessiveness with cleanliness. That, however, is quickly dispelled by the disgustingly grotty kleenex that has been floating loosely in the purse bilge. Ick.

Two tiny travel containers of Shalimar perfume. Why two? Paper clips. What sort of woman carries a selection of paper clips in her purse? Am I planning on using them like old time burglars used bobby pins to pick locks? Huh?

And why carry around grocery store recipes for such a long time that they are all torn, spindled and mutilated? What mangled dreams of culinary triumph have languished in my purse's dark confines? We'll never know ?

Look at that mountain of change. No wonder I listed slightly to the right, the side on which I carried my purse. Who knew that my wallet was randomly leaking coinage into the bottom of handbag? Not I.

What's with that incredibly gross melted candy cane? Fortunately the picture does not show its full melty and linty goodness. You have been spared. Ewwwwww where had THAT been dying?

Worry not, I'll give it a decent burial.

I don't know about you, but it's all become very clear to me. My purse has revealed my inner self--junky, absent-minded, disorganized and most of all alarmingly boring. (Like this entry didn't prove THAT!)

Behold, I am The Empress of Ennui--able to induce coma level boredom in less than 250 words.

Genuflect, leave quietly ? and no one gets hurt.