I figure speaking at an event with the words “World” and “Congress” in the title means I get to buy a new garment. So on Tuesday, I went to my local clothier for a really top-notch shirt. He looked at my coat and ties, picked one out, and told me the stripes are pronounced enough to tell everyone I’m the latest young hotshot, but restrained enough to put it respectfully. Here’s our post-purchase banter:
Ditch: “…and I think I’ll be back soon for pants. You warned me not to buy clothes in malls, and I did anyway, and the seam opened at the pocket after a week.”
Stitch: “Yeah, you know, I just can’t remember the last time I went to a discount superstore for thyroid surgery, either.”
I will most certainly be back for pants.