Sometimes I play a game called “Trivial Regrets.”

Why didn’t I dye my hair blond in my 30s? Why did I wait till my 40s?  Why did I stop dyeing my hair? (Because we didn’t have a shower?)   Why be so sensible about everything? 

The other day I realized: the only shoes I have are sneakers. 

There’s more:  Why did I allow the holes in my pierced ears to close up?   Why don’t I get them repierced at the mall? But piercing ears is a rite of friendship, not a kiosk procedure. Years ago a friend numbed my ears with ice cubes, then pierced them with a sterilized needle. A year later, another friend pierced them, because the first time the holes were crooked.

Why, you may wonder, am I thinking about pierced ears? Well, I found my earrings in a tiny Papier-mâché box: cat earrings, crescent moon earrings, demure gold hoops, peace sign earrings, and clip-on fake jade earrings that matched a green scarf.  Once, when my apartment was burgled, the thief dumped my worthless jewelry onto the bed. (I only like costume jewelry.) He did take my VCR, though.

Why didn’t I accept a limited edition of D. H. Lawrence’s The Virgin and the Gipsy ? It seems so harmless, doesn’t it?  During an interview with a 95-year-old book collector who was selling off his collection, he offered me the book because I am a keen Lawrence fan. I regretfully declined: It was conflict of interest.  I thought it unethical to take gifts while working. And so it is. But maybe I could have bought it. That didn’t occur to me.  But perhaps that, too, would have been crossing a line.

Yes, once I dyed my hair; I wore earrings; I turned down the gift of a book; and my preferred footwear was/is sneakers. Now I know what Nora Ephron meant when she wrote, “I feel bad about my neck.” I don’t feel particularly bad about my neck; it’s my slantwise crinkly arms. WEAR SUNSCREEN.

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