A certain confidant knew my plight when, out of that big Costco cart, someone filched my passel of shopping bags. The big blue tote, from Ikea, could tote a blue whale. The smart Netto bag I’d purchased on a lonely Saturday in Hamburg got snatched. And the brown one with the Hawaiian beachscape–a gift–gone.
The light-fingered bagmen and bagwomen, likely specialists in the shopping bag trade (perhaps in an interdimensional capacity), stitched all mine together with their other gains, and sold them as tents at the farmers market in Gondwanaland.
I was ticked. Merchandise was in the cart; it wasn’t as though someone had vanished from the earth, leaving everything and you assumed the bags were for the taking.
So I’ve been getting along with a few paper bags from Trader Joe’s and Ralph’s. Today, at Ralph’s, being a total flirt, I gave away one of those bags to a svelte pair of Palm Springs weekenders. I may have earned their eternal gratitude!
In the week when a woman one-third my age who wore red lipstick said she liked how I dressed, it was another big deal.
When I got home, put away the groceries, and turned to the mail, I found a package from an angel in Utah. (She got only the regular rate on postage though.) She who’d heard the sad story of my shopping bags transmitted it to her close confidant; that listener found the information actionable and bargained for these beautiful bags at a garage sale.
I am the beneficiary of much kindness.
Warning to young seminarians: Cardinal Theodore McCarrick will filch your passel.