Some women are obsessed with shoes. I’m more of a bag lady. But, like Nora Ephron, I also hate my purse, especially last Saturday when I changed pocketbooks three times in one day. Connecting the dots a few days later, however, it ended up being a good thing.

“Where’s your purse?” I asked a good friend the night before. She was about to make a purchase, but there was nothing hanging on her shoulder, tucked under her arm, or strapped to her back or midriff. She’d been known to misplace her bag, though, and her hands were lazy dazy free.

“I don’t have one,” she said, slipping a slim wallet from her back pants pocket. My cheeks flushed with envy.

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