Macrame Barf-Bags Deemed Stylish but Impractical

Got back to Tallahassee last night. Largely uneventful flights, except for the toddler who barfed in the seat in front of me during the Indy to Atlanta leg. The barf poured between the seats. Most landed on the floor, narrowly missing my sandal-clad feet, but a good portion landed on my purse.

My seat-mate was a nice computer nerd from Atlanta with whom I’d been having a pleasant discussion about Neil Stephenson novels. “Wow,” he said now, taking a whiff, “bleu cheese!”

I tried cleaning with baby wipes, but found the majority of curd-like vomit quickly took refuge in the holes between the coarse weave.

Fortunately we were soon landing. In Atlanta I transferred my belongings into a plastic bag, and forced the purse into a sealable zip-lock. Today I soaked and scrubbed, and just put it out on the clothesline…I’m hoping we have a thunderstorm tonight.

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