Bag Lady

Everybody has some sort of a behavioural obsession. Those of you who check this blog regularly are probably aware of my favourite ones (lists, food, lists about food), but I would like to share another.

Plastic bags. They make me writhe.

If I am out shopping, I will often carry a "bag-o-bags" with me. This is nothing mysterious. It is one large cloth bag filled with several other cloth bags. Why cloth bags? Because they hold a shitload of groceries, they are sturdy and won't tear like cheap plastic, and I can sling them over my shoulder when I am trying not to get damaged on the bus.

If I have forgotten my beloved bag-o-bags and need to pick something up, I do the next best thing. I stuff my purchases into my purse (purses are another mild obsession of mine), or I carry the goods myself. Because, let's face it, people take plastic bags out of habit - not because they always need them.

For example: If I buy a CD? I don't need a bag to carry it out of the store, tear it open, and pop it into my stereo. If I buy clothes? They can usually be rolled up and stuffed gently into whatever bag I'm already carrying. Small groceries? They are often pre-packaged anyways. I might as well just carry them out. It's not like they will last long anyways, especially if they contain chocolate.

Still, plastic bags can accumulate when you have little choice but to take them (messy or delicate items sometimes need the extra layer). These become my garbage bags, storage bags, lunch bags, donation bags to shops that recycle, or doggy bags for my friends' pets.

Plus, when I get a French bulldog named Brain, he will help me use up those extra nuisances.

By the way, I want to get a French bulldog named Brain.

I digress. The moral of the story? Get a bulldog.