“I been looking for a driver who is qualified, so if you think that you’re the one, step into my ride…”

Pam was dancing around her apartment, singing, at the moment Shut Up And Drive by Rihanna. She had just gotten out of a bath, in which she had used lilac bubble bath, candles, and a combination of bath slats and oils. She had read through three weeks of Cosmo magazines that Kelly had lent her, and sipped her glass of wine.

Now completely relaxed, and wearing the short teddy that Jim loved, but he wasn’t seeing tonight (she laughed at that) she was folding her laundry from two days ago, waiting for the oven timer to let her know her that the Shepherds Pie was done (one of her favorite meals, and something she had all the ingredients at home to make).

The song changed, to Strawberry Wine by Deanna Carter, just as she folded the last sweater. Jim’s green and blue stripped one, her favorite one and off him. She belted out the tune, a little off key, but whatever.

Since there was about a half hour till her dinner was going to be ready, Pam needed something to do. She was not the type of person who could just sit and listen to music. She had to be doing something, whether it was constructive or not. Read? No, she didn’t feel like concentrating on both words and lyrics. Solitaire? Nah, then she would have to dig out her laptop, and then wait for it to start up, and then find someplace comfy to sit with it, to much hassle. Paint? Nah, too messy. Sketch? Again, to messy, what with the pencil and charcoal dust that would end up all over her fingers. Crap, what can I do? She thought.

Then the idea hit her like Phyllis’ Pine perfume from Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration on a morning when she had a headache. She could clean out her purse. She hadn’t done that in, what, a year? Oh boy, this should be interesting.

She took her purse from its spot on the desk near the door. She brought it to the middle of the living room, and threw caution to the wind and dumped it. After a few shakes, everything was out. Her purse was so tiny, how was there this much crap in it? She started sorting through it.

There was the stuff she expected to find in there. Chapstick, compact, tampons, a few different coloured lip glosses, two pens, her wallet, and a packet of tissues. But then there was some stuff that she didn’t think she could’ve made up if she tried.

One dirty sock. Not two, one. A tooth brush cover, minus the tooth brush. A packet of matches, an empty spool of thread, a plastic Easter egg, the tag she had ripped off Meredith’s shirt of few days ago, her broken nonPod headphones, enough gum for the whole of England, a headband that she never wore, about three hundred bobby pins, a yoyo, a votive candle that stunk, tweezers, a bag of Reese’s Puffs cereal, an instruction booklet for her new digital camera, about fifty receipts, a crumpled up phone number with no name, a spaghetti necklace that Toby delivered to Pam from Sarah, a used dryer lint sheet, a mini flashlight, a half eaten Caramilk bar, some lose change that added up to $4.43, and some lint and crumbs.

She started laughing at herself, and went to put the necessary things back in when the oven timer went off. She left the mess, and went to go enjoy a good chunk of Shepherds Pie.

While she was eating, she opted for a movie instead of music. She chose What Women Want, and sat down to enjoy the rest of her night. She glanced at the clock; it said 7:29pm. Damn, Jim’s gonna interrupt the ending. Oh well.

Once the movie got going, she started to feel tired. The week was catching up to her, she was feeling exhausted. Mel Gibson was trying out the woman’s products from work, when her phone rang. Jim, you said 9 o’clock, I’m fine.

“Hello,”

No response.

“Hello. Who’s there?”

She heard breathing.

“What do you want?”

More breathing. She was about ready to hang up, when she heard a click. Whoever it was hung up. Must’ve been a wrong number.

She went back to the comfy spot on her couch with her big body pillow, pressed play, and continued the movie.