I thought I could stop at the Jeep dealer and get a quick answer to my question. Instead, my car needed a repair and I had to wait. So, I took off my coat and helped myself to coffee, nodding at another customer.
“I wasn’t planning on a $300 visit,” I said.
“That’s cheap,” the man said. “I’ll be paying $1,200.”
A woman joined in and somewhere in the middle of the conversation, I glanced down and realized I was wearing my ratty, filthy, only-at-home sweater. Stuck to the front were remnants of red lentil chili and patches of peanut butter cookie dough. Along with a smear of toothpaste and tufts of cat hair.
Why don’t I wash it more often, you might wonder. Because it’s worn out and full of holes and becoming too fragile to mend. And LL Bean doesn’t sell these cozy wool cardigans anymore.
Should I tell these strangers at the car dealer all this? No, because they probably haven’t even noticed and don’t care. Because, like me, they’re only thinking about themselves.
What a welcome reminder! Almost worth $300.
