This week, I spoke to someone. On the phone. Someone not related to me. Someone not married to me, on his weekly trip to the supermarket, using one of my scarves as a mask. Every year, without fail, people buy me scarves. I don’t wear them. They collect, and possibly multiply in my closet. But I don’t wear them. These days, my husband wears one (with penguins on it) to go to the supermarket. He calls me to tell me…
