Yesterday a friend of mine put on a light gray dress she had never worn before, got into her car and, not too much longer after that, spilled hot coffee all over herself and the dress. I know this because while we were chatting on the phone last night she was trying to get out the spots that the spot remover had left behind, the last bit of her valiant effort to undo the damage. She apologized for being “obsessed” and said “I know there are much more important things to worry about.” Of course there are more important things to worry about, but if we obsessed over the important things, we would all go mad.