Ever since my childhood when I spent many long, lonely hours at the golf course my parents owned, plaid has been a bit of a sore subject.

An incredibly hairy 350-pound man in plaid shorts and golf shoes is not a sight you forget. Ever.

Still, I’m wearing, if my memory serves, the same plaid. It’s a sweater. My fear is that I’m burning the same sort of indelible memory into someone’s brain.