The bag lady

by Catherine Mylinh
Aug. 25, 2008

The other night I stayed up late watching the 2008 Olympics. I had with me a bag of chips as I sat on the couch, inspired by all those amazing athletes in Beijing. (Don't think I don't recognize the irony of stuffing my face with crispy carbs while ogling sinewy hard bodies, but that is reserved for another post.)

Back to the subject: I fell asleep watching some diving competition and woke up a short time later. Tired and groggy, I hastily crumpled up my bag of chips and clumsily clipped it closed.

I stumbled into the bedroom to go to bed but all of a sudden I couldn't sleep. I lay awake for a half hour, thinking about that stupid bag of chips. I couldn't help but feel bothered that I had haphazardly sealed it. I debated whether I should get up to fix it, as if that paper sack of potato chips was a metaphor for my life. In the end, my Type-A obsessiveness got the best of me:

"Do you want to be the kind of person who goes around doing things half-assed? Are you someone who accepts 'good enough'? Is sloppy okay for you?"

So there I was, at 1:30 a.m., walking back into the living room to fix that bag of chips. I unclipped it, carefully folded it down and re-clipped it. Then it was really time for bed. And, after wasting a half hour of my life - a half hour I will never get back, mind you - contemplating this trivial task as a symbol of my integrity and work ethic, I was able to finally drift back to sleep.

I suppose this gives a whole new meaning to the term 'bag lady.'


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