Ushi
Today is going to be a good day.
There is little outward evidence of this. Ragged, gray clouds skittered in overhead during my morning bus ride. By the time I got to my stop a few blocks from the edge of campus, rain was coming down in earnest. Now, passing cars send up a fine spray of droplets. The umbrella in my backpack gave up the ghost as soon as I pulled it out, and I haven't had a chance to duct tape the fabric to the spines yet, because I'm about fourteen minutes away from a class that starts in eleven minutes and twenty-nine seconds.
Today hasn't started particularly well, and my schedule only forecasts worse. I have five hours of work this afternoon and several projects due in the next two days. Before I can tackle any of that, there's the pesky issue of three hours of morning classes. I'll be lucky to sleep before midnight.
But counterbalancing that undoubtedly depressing list is one bright beacon: I'm wearing my favorite sweater.
I know. It doesn't sound like much. But here are the facts: My favorite sweater is white cashmere. It's soft and warm. I found it in a Salvation Army in Alhambra when I was buying clothes for college two and a half years ago, tagged with the ridiculously low price of $3.79 even though it looked like it had never been worn.
I argued with myself—and my mom—about buying it for twenty minutes. On the one hand, it was a mint-condition cashmere sweater for under five bucks. On the other hand, it was cashmere. And white.
And that's why I'm positive that today will be a good day. Twenty-nine months after that purchase, I still have that sweater and it's still unstained. And let me tell you, Ushi Tang is not usually that graceful on her own. That's two and a half years of no dropped coffee cups or sliding spaghetti strands. It's twenty-nine months of no toner spills at work, of nobody bumping into me holding a slice of pizza at the wrong time.
