So this week Bag Lady either purchased Dolly Parton’s, “A Holly Dolly Christmas” or Motley Crue’s, “Girls, Girls, Girls” on iTunes.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ll let you decide.

Waiting nearly 20 years to make my first iTunes purchase ever, coupled with being immediately flustered because I couldn’t figure out how to actually listen to said music, confirmed that Bag Lady is Crypt Keeper-ancient.

Scary because it wasn’t the only confirmation of the week. Also, my stove broke and Bag Dog ate my brand new oven mitt. The hits just keep on coming.

EXHIBIT A: INSTANT COFFEE

We’re not talking chic, K-cup pods of Coney Island Caramel or Blueberry Cobbler. We’re talking two teaspoons of Folgers Classic Roast (Dollar General, 22.6 oz., $7), or frankly any store brand, add water and stir. I’ve suddenly been drinking it all pandemic. Like, happily. It’s weird. Next is organizing my slacks and buying orthotics.

Oh, wait.

EXHIBIT B: GOOGLING FOR ARCH SUPPORT REVIEWS

What? I needed new sneakers and they had to provide a nice firm, midsole footbed with just enough support for . . .

Oh, no.

Online image

EXHIBIT C: I’M EATING EDAMAME

Mr. Bag Lady sent me an article about getting more folate in our diet, so I bought Sea Point Farms’ dry roasted sea salt edamame (Hannaford, 4 oz., $2.19). They’re honestly pretty good, crispy, just salty enough, no sour aftertaste, but let’s not let that distract from the larger point that my husband sent me an article about getting more folate in our diet.

Bag Lady is. So. Old.

ON TO HAPPIER THINGS, LIKE MY STOVE BREAKING

The bottom bake element snapped out of nowhere and joy of joys, we Amazon’d for a new one, which Bag Lady didn’t even know was possible. Less than $25 later and we were back in biscuits!

Stepping in to temper the joy: Bag Dog — or, more accurately, Bad Dog — who destroyed a brand new Food Network stripe silicone oven mitt (Kohl’s, $9.79) in use for less than 24 hours, by chewing off its thumb.

But such is life, right? One day you’re folating to add decades and the next you’re down a digit.

Pretty sure Motley Crue wrote a song about that once. Maybe it was Dolly.

Bag Lady’s true identity is protected by a stylish, sweater-wearing Doberman pinscher (who was fairly unrepentant) and the customer service counter at the Sun Journal. You can reach her at [email protected]

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