Last Saturday, my wife and I replayed a scene that's probably familiar to any couple who've ever gone out for the evening, from the beginning of time. We were getting ready to go to a neighborhood party, and I was trying to find a shirt that 1) wasn't too wrinkled, 2) didn't have any noticeable stains, and 3) didn't smell too bad. My wife was trying on some clothes that she'd bought that very afternoon.

I'd like to complain that my wife buys too many clothes, and often I do just that, ...

( Back to Article )