Is a pocketbook, by any other name, as mysterious?

"God! Why does my purse smell like bananas?!" ((less annoyed, more Napoleon Dynamite))

Husband has just been rhetorically wifed. He shrugs.

"I mean, there was a banana in there, but I took it out yesterday! Why on earth can I still smell it?"

((inserts whole head into purse, takes long, disgusted drag. removes head. shakes head in defeat))

Am I wrong to assume that most moms of toddlers have a banana (or two) in their purse 83% of the time? or that we smell things that shouldn't be smelled without reservation or pause?

A few days later...

Scene: Grocery Store Check-Out.


"Omg! Why are my credit cards stuck in my wallet?  What did I spill in there? It's brown and.. creamy. What did Harper put in there?"

At this point, it is safe to assume that I no longer carry an expensive bag. Or have an expensive wallet. Or have failed to annoy a single grocery store check-out girl.

"Oh GOD! Is it poop?!" Did Harper go rogue?!

<<horrified gasp from cashier>>

"No. It can't be.. It smells like.. bananas."

But I took that banana out three days ago and I didn't notice that it had even been split open.  It wasn't even brown.  In fact, I ate it.

I suppose a Type A would have done it right away, but. . .

Later that night..
Intent on discovering the source, I began removing items from my purse with the eventual intent of throwing it in the washing machine.. b/c I'm a Mom and have a washable purse ((blushes in recognition of the travesty)).

. . . paci. . .toothbrush. . .1/2 eaten cookie. . . gooey wallet. . . receipts. . .coupons. . . paci. . . paci. . .small blanket. . .sippy cup. . . . .freeze-dried strawberries. . . applesauce. . .diapers. . . .wipes. . .paci wipes. . . make up. . .keys. . . .loose change. . . hand sanitizer. . . screwdriver(?). . .scotch tape. . .board book. . .

"What is the source of the stench that plagues me so?!" I didn't really say that.

In a defeated huff, I walked to the laundry room with an empty, black winter banana purse in tow.

Spring needs to be sprung and I'll tell you why.

In anticipation of its bath, I carefully checked each inner pocket one last time, wincing at the thought of unexpectedly plunging my hand into the source. ..Coming up empty, I tossed aside the bottom board shaper and lining.

I audibly squealed in shock as a long, skinny, slimy, wet, completely black object loosed itself from the innards, became airborne, did slow motion flips and landed on my beflipflopped foot with limp clap. 

Paralyzed with fear and disbelief, I stared:

A dead black FISH!?

A DEAD MOUSE!?

OMG. It's a snake.

..but dead snakes don't smell like three week old bananas..