In the past week I've bought two new purses and a wallet. Yes, purses are my weakness, as shoes are my husband's. And when Darling Daughter reads this I know I'm going to hear about it. Let me just say now, they were all good deals.

I search endlessly for the bag that will have the right number and size of zippered sections for all my stuff; be not too deep, not too shallow, not too floppy, not too rigid, lightweight and comfortable, with pockets that allow for easy access of phone and chapstick . . . and be cute to boot.

My obsession with the perfect handbag goes beyond fashion, though. Don't mistake me, I love admiring the shapes, materials and adornments of new clutches and hobo bags. But beyond that, I've always had this sense that finding the perfect purse will somehow make everything in my life fall into place. I guess it has something to do with my quest to be organized. I periodically start new systems, buy new gadgets, in an attempt to manage my time and keep life running smoothly.

As a writer, and a muddled person in general, I have frequent brain lapses. I am always preoccupied; more so as the years go on. It's to the point where I don't even listen to the radio in the car anymore - I just have too much whizzing around in my brain. I once dropped my daughter off at a friend's house all day, only to learn it was a different Rebekah who had called and invited her over. There were lots of reasons I should have caught that, the mom looking totally baffled as I breezily thanked her for having Wee One over being one of them. That's when I seriously began worrying that I wasn't allowing enough brain space to think clearly.

And what helps me think clearly? Organization. Clearing out the clutter and unnecessary distractions. Hence a need for notebooks, calendars, PDAs and sticky notes always within reach. And something to keep them all in.

So there's a little thrill I get when I transfer stuff from my old purse to my new one, compartmentalizing every little thing, noting how perfect this or that aspect of my new handbag is, ignoring the things that aren't. With every spot I slip my sunglasses or keys in, every card I slide into place in my new wallet, I gain a sense of control of my destiny, ready to take on the world with my new animal print bag, enjoying the confidence I suddenly have in my ability to conquer all that comes my way . . . and life is good - until all that comes my way begins collecting in the depths of my prized purse, tumbling around with mints, pens and old receipts, and the search begins again.