The Battle of the Belligerent Bag

Oh yes...you know the one. It looms large in your closet and eyes you with intense animosity. It has felt neglected and underused. Just because it is large, cumbersome and unsightly, it has been stored under hanging clothes or sometimes,  above on the flimsy wire racks. (How was I supposed to know it was scared of heights?) The belligerent bag let me know that it was furious with me when it decided that I desperately needed a goose egg on the top of my head, where it landed on the way back down to the closet floor. Apparently, it doesn't like being left alone for too long.

I had further evidence after a gentle discussion with the belligerent bag. It is the largest of the bunch and is the ring leader. Dressed in white and black zebra stripes, once out in the light, the belligerent bag takes full advantage of having a larger than life personality. In the middle of the night, it shifts in the shadows so that you magically trip over it in the middle of the night. The belligerent bag was so offended by having my length fall prone over it that it decided to bite my toe on the way back.

Delightfully, the mood improves with daylight. The loud, blaring black and white of the belligerent bag scream wake up to the eyeballs. (I didn't say my mood improved...) I managed to have a pleasant good morning and goodbye with it as I scrambled out the door.

Now, it is time. I have piled clothing and shoes beside it. I have to murmur gently to it as I ensure that the collection of material matches the list. I am convinced the belligerent bag steals the list and munches on it as soon as my back is turned. So, I begin. I put the shoes on the bottom. Two pairs of pants, some shorts, shirts, a jacket, swimwear and lingerie all make their way into the carnivorous red mouth of the bag. I add in toiletries and a couple of books. Then, I try to close the darn belligerent bag. It muffles a chuckle. "I work out" rings in my head.

That's it...me and the belligerent bag. I roll up my sleeves and stuff the last minute oddments into the suitcase. I scramble over it and around it, shifting the contents. We wrestle. I pull and the belligerent bag squirms. I sit on it heavily and it moans and groans...and slithers out from underneath me. Finally, after a short but sweatful tussle, that zipper closes. I have won the battle.

The belligerent bag's friends are watching me, waiting. I wonder whose side they are on? Round two? Wish me luck. Phew!

(By the way...I wish I looked this good after falling in a suitcase...hahahahaha!)