The Pit of Doom is back, and it’s bigger than ever before.
No, the Pit of Doom is not the Sarlacc Pit that swallowed ultracool bounty hunter Boba Fett in “Return of the Jedi,” and it’s not some megahard olive pit that may have destroyed your back molar.’
It’s the name I gave to my wife’s purse years ago, and one that caught on with other husbands I know, including my late father-in-law who used to joke around with me that his wife’s Pit of Doom was bigger and deadlier than my wife’s.
Both of us knew that once an item went into the Pit of Doom, there was only a 50-50 chance it was ever coming out again.
But something strange happened over the years. The Pit of Doom shrunk. With every incarnation, it got smaller, to the point I rarely referred to it as the Pit of Doom. I figured smaller purses must have been the trend, and I wasn’t going to argue with that.
But out of nowhere the Pit of Doom returned. My wife said to me, as she often has, “I got a new purse.” Figuring I’d have to do the obligatory “It looks very nice,” my mouth nearly dropped when she showed me something not much smaller than a larger carry-on luggage bag.
“Whose body do you plan on hiding in there?” I asked, thinking maybe mine for even asking the question.
“Nobody’s,” she laughed. “I just liked it.” She probably said something about it being on sale, but I missed that because I was still awed at the sheer size of it, like people probably felt upon encountering the Titanic prior to its fateful maiden voyage.
I dropped the subject, figuring that maybe such a big purse would actually eliminate previous Pit of Doom issues, purely on the fact she could just stick her head in there when she needed to find something, making the task much easier.
That wasn’t to be, though, as I often started hearing the once familiar phrase of “I can’t find it in my purse.” Like the Bermuda Triangle, things have gone missing again, with little hope of ever being found again.
The Pit of Doom has its benefits when things aren’t getting lost in it, though. Needing a scissors one day, my wife pulled one out of her purse. I’m guessing not many other people can have scissors ready like that at their disposal.
With concealed carry, a gun is likely to get lost in the Pit of Doom, but the purse itself could serve as an effective weapon, so I don’t ever have to worry about her safety. Should she ever need it, she would just have to swing the purse and hit her target. The only problem would be having enough momentum to actually swing the purse.
I can joke all I want, but I wouldn’t dare print this without giving my wife her say. Her comment:
“I will accept and acknowledge that my purse has, on multiple occasions, become the final resting place of many an item which is never to be seen again. I attribute this to the same creature that eats at least one half of a pair of socks with every load of laundry that comes out of the dryer.
“As for the size, I, like many other mothers, find it necessary to carry something more fashionable, yet not dissimilar to a diaper bag for amusing and contending with children (and often husbands) on public outings. Frequently, you will find a wide variety of crayons, matchbox cars or Star Wars figurines within its clutches.
“Note to readers… the husband frequently cites Star Wars references… any guesses who the figurines are for in this case? It is not uncommon to find a juice box, packs of gum or a variety of other treats as well. We women need to do what we need to do to manage our families. If that includes keeping an arsenal in a large accessory, so be it.”
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Originally published in The Portage County Gazette on Friday, Nov. 18, 2011.
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