I hope this doesn't sound superficial, but even if it does, it really isn't

I got the most beautiful new coat yesterday. A dark, charcoal gray wool number—almost like a pea coat in style. I was out shopping for boots with my mom, wearing my tan suede ¾ length that reeks of stale cigarette smoke and is dotted with numerous petty stains. I mean, nothing major/offensive stain-wise. It wasn’t like my chocolate brown suede that I spilled chicken grease all over almost 4 years ago, shortly after Sammy was born when I made the two roast chickens and the spinach manicotti and twice baked potatoes for Geoff and Kat so they wouldn’t have to worry about what was for dinner for a couple days. I guess the foil pan didn’t hold out so perfectly as I was transporting the chickens up the driveway and through their kitchen, although I didn’t notice at the time. I looked at my coat the next day and was like, “Wha’appen??” Now that was a serious stain, and that jacket was retired immediately. And when I say retired, I mean retired. I still have it—it’s hanging in my living room closet, just waiting for the day when Mr. Clean invents a magic eraser that combats chicken grease on suede. So my present, still-in-circulation, tan suede… … while my lackadaisical spirit perceives it as a charming, beatnik-esque garment, the reality is it makes me look like a bit of a slob. This was evidenced by my mom’s palpable excitement at all the fabulous winter coat sales at Eastern Hills mall. It was adorable and fun at the same time. She was all, “Try this one on” and “Ohhh, how about this one? Hmm… I don’t know if I like the buttons” and “How do your arms feel when you go like this?”

So yesterday, I got a new coat. And I absolutely love it. It may sound lame and superficial if you don’t know where I’m coming from (in addition to clichéd), but I felt like a million bucks today. The coat had something to do with that. Or maybe because I knew my mom was happy I had a nice, new coat.