If you think those little books filled with magic beans and flying chairs, complete with happy endings, were merely tools to keep us from noticing the mundane routine of life, then think again, and stop being so cynical all the time.

I have a magic bag.

For a bag to be magical, it must satisfy several properties. First, it must possess a will of its own, or at least co-operate with a Higher Being to perfect His Cosmic Plan. If that didn't make sense to you, then congratulations, you can call yourself a normal and sane individual.

Second, it must do things that most other bags cannot. This one is better than all others. This one can hide stuff whenever it feels like it. All you have to do is put something in it, and voila! it is...still there, but don't worry, it will disappear when you actually look for it. I almost turned my bag inside-out the other day, looking for a small hard-bound notepad of mine. I looked for it in my bag about six times, and didn't find it. A few days later, I was looking for something else, and there it was. Today, I was hunting for my earphones, knowing that it had to be in there somewhere. I found it several hours later - exactly where I had been searching for it.

Third, it must accept responsibility for its own actions. Thanks to this clause, you cannot blame me for any of the above incidents. My bag has owned responsibility for its actons, and I am sure it is all a part of a Larger Plan.

Don't worry, I'm rambling on like this only because it is two o'clock in the morning. At other times, I would have rambled on differently.