Pearl was just in my office. Why? To report things missing from her apartment, of course. This is an ongoing theme with her, and the supposed stolen items have ranged from ice cream to letter openers to one earring. One earring. Not two. Because those hippie-people type only wear one earring, you know.*

Today, Pearl is missing her dead husband's (this is her description of the poor sucker, not mine) masonic apron, a flashlight from under her bed, a five-dollar bill, a bunch of bananas, and a bag of candy that she says she bought when she moved in (she has lived here for about four years).

I suppose this visual is necessary to fully appreciate what just happened: she walked in here pushing her mondo suitcase-sized handbag on her walker. Pearl doesn't need a walker to ambulate, she needs it to move the handbag. It's huge, absolutely stuffed, and pretty scary.

When I asked her if the missing items could possibly be in her handbag, I truly asked in earnest. I wasn't being sarcastic. I really wasn't! I mean, you should see this thing. It makes Gladys' look like a kiddie purse. She could easily misplace a small child in there, let alone a dumb apron, some bananas and a bag of four-year-old candy. Not to even mention an ugly earring, the flashlight, and a five-dollar bill that probably never existed anyway.

That's why I don't understand how my question of "Could these missing things actually be in your handbag?" pissed her off so much.

She's calling the police right now. On me.


*I know for a fact those "hippie-people" are partial to stealing hand-painted cloisonne daisy clip-ons the size of a half dollar. Right on.