I have not been one with my new purse. At Cheyenne Frontier Days in late July, I searched through every booth and shop, looking for a replacement for the tooled leather number I'd picked up a few years before at the National Western Stock Show -- a bag now held together with safety pins. And although I clearly found the very best purse in all of Cheyenne, an Ariat drawstring model with the admirable name "Up in Flames" (and a half-off price-tag at Just Dandy's, where the rodeo queens shop), and had it vetted by actual fashion mavens who know that I am style-impaired, once I got it home, things just weren't working.
I liked it that I could fit my laptop in the purse. But I didn't like it that when I emptied the purse down to just my keys and wallet, I had trouble finding either. No, I was not one with my new purse.
Until it came under attack -- by an inside-the-Beltway type.