Ragged

I have always been one of those people who carries or wears a beloved object until either it falls apart or those around me beg for it to be put out of its misery. For example, back in 1999-2000, I had this favorite skirt. It was a black, floor length nylon mixture. I wore it so often that I'm pretty sure it was paper thin. I'm killing my Mary Poppins of a purse in much the same manner. Holes have been worn in its bottom, and the straps are almost threadbare. I just can't give it up though. It fits perfectly over my shoulder and always seems to expand to carry just what I need. I'm reminded of these things as I sit here at Reagan National staring down at my suitcase. It occurred to me that I have an emotional attachment to this suitcase. Even though the pop-up handle is bent and requires a herculean effort to get up and the top strap has been pulled off, it remains my suitcase of choice for most trips. This bag has weathered many an adventure with me, whether it be a marathon train ride to Nova Scotia or a simple flight throwing me into the political trenches of a party convention. It still bears the scars of Thailand and Taiwan where they tape your suitcase closed once you get through security.
I guess you could say that once I form an attachment I have problems letting go. Haha.