Keys Again

Lately I'm finding that the absorbing problems of life are not the big things, but the small irritations of trying to learn to live gracefully in another culture.
Chief among these frustrations is the sheer number of things I have to carry in my pockets. I have five remote controls for various doors and gates, three keychains, an electronic ignition key, a wallet, a flash drive, an iPod, and a cell phone. I am always juggling all this jingly stuff (I need this keychain and the black remote to start the car and I need this remote and the silver set of keys to get into the office.)
I am considering getting a man-purse. I have rejected out of hand the idea of a carabiner on the belt buckle with iPod and phone holsters. I am a self-respecting geek. But a man-purse is still a stretch. They have those cute little wrist loops, I could find myself at the mall, say, swinging the wee bag along like Little Red Riding Hood.
Maybe a satchel of some sort- then I could pass for a Canadian, or maybe a hip Swede. Of course, then I would need a moleskine which I know I wouldn't use. I barely even use a blog.