lackblogger
SasqWatch
- Joined
- November 1, 2014
- Messages
- 4,778
A huge tragedy occurred to my personal well-being over Christmas. One of my beloved possessions finally bit the dust:
This is what we, in our household, refer to as a 'Sponge Bag'. It is designed to carry small items, normally toiletries, for the purposes of travelling. I received this item as a gift one Christmas, full of branded items. The branded items all got used up, but the bag stayed with me, one of the most useful presents ever. How old the bag is (was) is anyone's guess. Let's just put a rough figure of 25 years as it's age upon death.
At the top of the bag you will notice heavy perforation to the material, this is where a material cord used to circle the top of the bag enabling the tight closure of the bag upon a careful pulling of the cord. The top is now fully perforated and the cord is now a separate entity. At the bottom of the bag you will notice the white plastic cord that maintains the sturdy circular shape of the bag, enabling it to stand upright unaided. This white plastic cord is now protruding from its encasing like old bones sticking out of broken skin.
There is only one obvious solution. My God, man! It's time to… Noooooooo… buy a new one…
So, regretfully, one engages the shops and the internet in search of that old-fashioned concept - the replacement item.
Egad! it appears that, unbeknownst to you, shock upon shock, the wonders of the material market do not actually function by the whims of what you personally might or might not have a need for. The market does not keep a supply of that odd item you became addicted to 25 or so years ago. Not one single enterprise stocks anything even remotely like that item you have used like a third limb for over half your life.
They have sponge bags that look like purses:
But, no no no, that's all quite wrong, that is absolutely nothing like what I'm trying to replace. Then you find something that looks absolutely spot on:
But, no, it turns out this is a 'Wash Bag' and is designed for washing to be put in the washing machine and is twice the size of what you're looking for. Then you find a potential compromise:
http://www.alibaba.com/product-deta...96024619.html?spm=a2700.7724857.29.168.8yofay
Ok, it's pink, I can live with pink, honest I can, ok, you got me, I'm pretty desperate by now, I'll take pink if that's all there is. But… alas, you then realise you've found your item on Alibaba and the minimum order is 1,000 pieces and decide that maybe this pink compromise isn't worth the effort after all.
Then, walking round the shops in town, trying to test the brain cells of every shop assistant in the city, you discover that using the term 'Sponge Bag' only appears to work on the older shop assistants. The term 'Sponge Bag' is now met with the blank stares of insanity by anyone under the age of "You look quite young, is it legal for you to be working?". For this new breed one gets shown to 'Wash Bags' or just pointed to other assistants, to which you finally discover the a new phrase has entered your language, that of the 'Toiletries Bag'. Yes good assistant, I meant 'Toiletries Bag', how dumb of me.
And after 12 hours of virtually non-stop shopping one has to come to terms with a new tragic reality - that your item is extinct. It was likely never intended to be anything but a Christmas flash in the pan when one product required a carry-case for it's Christmas gift set. You became addicted to an inevitable dead-end. You have set yourself up to have a day of misery and depression 25 years down the line by choosing to actually use a useful object someone once gave to you as a present.
But it has been useful for 25 years! Yes, indeed it has. It has cruelly addicted me to its use, knowing full well that at some point it would leave me limbless, cultureless and bereft of an entire way of life. That bag that has accompanied me everywhere I have been when away from my house, be it work or pleasure, is now gone - just what am I supposed to do when I leave the house now? I cannot leave the house for any prolonged duration without my bag. I know that bag. That bag knows me. Everything in it is there as a result of 25 years of continued experience, an object within for every eventuality.
Why… It makes one scared to leave the house!
Edits: for revolting typos.
This is what we, in our household, refer to as a 'Sponge Bag'. It is designed to carry small items, normally toiletries, for the purposes of travelling. I received this item as a gift one Christmas, full of branded items. The branded items all got used up, but the bag stayed with me, one of the most useful presents ever. How old the bag is (was) is anyone's guess. Let's just put a rough figure of 25 years as it's age upon death.
At the top of the bag you will notice heavy perforation to the material, this is where a material cord used to circle the top of the bag enabling the tight closure of the bag upon a careful pulling of the cord. The top is now fully perforated and the cord is now a separate entity. At the bottom of the bag you will notice the white plastic cord that maintains the sturdy circular shape of the bag, enabling it to stand upright unaided. This white plastic cord is now protruding from its encasing like old bones sticking out of broken skin.
There is only one obvious solution. My God, man! It's time to… Noooooooo… buy a new one…
So, regretfully, one engages the shops and the internet in search of that old-fashioned concept - the replacement item.
Egad! it appears that, unbeknownst to you, shock upon shock, the wonders of the material market do not actually function by the whims of what you personally might or might not have a need for. The market does not keep a supply of that odd item you became addicted to 25 or so years ago. Not one single enterprise stocks anything even remotely like that item you have used like a third limb for over half your life.
They have sponge bags that look like purses:
But, no no no, that's all quite wrong, that is absolutely nothing like what I'm trying to replace. Then you find something that looks absolutely spot on:
But, no, it turns out this is a 'Wash Bag' and is designed for washing to be put in the washing machine and is twice the size of what you're looking for. Then you find a potential compromise:
http://www.alibaba.com/product-deta...96024619.html?spm=a2700.7724857.29.168.8yofay
Ok, it's pink, I can live with pink, honest I can, ok, you got me, I'm pretty desperate by now, I'll take pink if that's all there is. But… alas, you then realise you've found your item on Alibaba and the minimum order is 1,000 pieces and decide that maybe this pink compromise isn't worth the effort after all.
Then, walking round the shops in town, trying to test the brain cells of every shop assistant in the city, you discover that using the term 'Sponge Bag' only appears to work on the older shop assistants. The term 'Sponge Bag' is now met with the blank stares of insanity by anyone under the age of "You look quite young, is it legal for you to be working?". For this new breed one gets shown to 'Wash Bags' or just pointed to other assistants, to which you finally discover the a new phrase has entered your language, that of the 'Toiletries Bag'. Yes good assistant, I meant 'Toiletries Bag', how dumb of me.
And after 12 hours of virtually non-stop shopping one has to come to terms with a new tragic reality - that your item is extinct. It was likely never intended to be anything but a Christmas flash in the pan when one product required a carry-case for it's Christmas gift set. You became addicted to an inevitable dead-end. You have set yourself up to have a day of misery and depression 25 years down the line by choosing to actually use a useful object someone once gave to you as a present.
But it has been useful for 25 years! Yes, indeed it has. It has cruelly addicted me to its use, knowing full well that at some point it would leave me limbless, cultureless and bereft of an entire way of life. That bag that has accompanied me everywhere I have been when away from my house, be it work or pleasure, is now gone - just what am I supposed to do when I leave the house now? I cannot leave the house for any prolonged duration without my bag. I know that bag. That bag knows me. Everything in it is there as a result of 25 years of continued experience, an object within for every eventuality.
Why… It makes one scared to leave the house!
Edits: for revolting typos.
Last edited:
- Joined
- Nov 1, 2014
- Messages
- 4,778