New bow tie (Tommy Hilfiger).
What I would have worn to the party I decided not to attend tonight. A large part of me wanted to see the old gang, but I know if I’d gone, I would have just realized (again) we’re all not on the same wave length anymore, and I would have wished I’d just settled for remembering the old times and not tried to relive them.
On a higher note, I was at work today, and an older gentleman came up behind me and said, “Son, do you work here?” And I turned to him and said, “Yes sir,” and then he actually got a good look at me. I hoped he’d just let it pass and ask me what he was going to ask me, but no such luck. “Oh,” he said, squinting. “Jeez, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you very well.” I told him it was fine, and we moved on, but I wished I could explain to him how fine it really was, that he’d seen me quite well, actually, that he’d given me a little pick-me-up just as the tedium was starting to set in. It was a variation on the common “mistake” people make when they address me that I’d never heard before—“sir,” sure, but never “son.” A term of endearment, what my grandfather will sometimes call my dad and my brother. It was kind of nice—I liked it.