Ms. Lonely

Today, in a move most unprecedented, the Lady left me at home when she went to work. At first I was insulted, as she began to remove critical contents from my insides, but once I realized she was putting smelly, dirty sneakers and garlic-infused foodstuffs into her backpack, I breathed a sigh of relief. Scarcely since our first encounter, have the Lady and I been separated by more than a couple of rooms. Now I have an entire day to do what I please, put my straps up and forget about the woes of carting around wallets and lip gloss and tissue. But, dear Reader, what is it that pleases me? Watching TV? Reading? Knitting? No. My purpose in life is to look pristine and pretty, perched on the shoulder of a wonderful woman. And here I sit, alone in the flat, staring at the dining table, waiting for her to come home.