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I used to love to touch soft cashmere sweaters that I might buy for my daughter. Or pick up a book and flip through the pages. Now I touch my keyboard and scratch my head. Is the waist really that small on that jacket? Are those stripes too gaudy for my sister? Tapping on the screen enlarges the image. But I still can't feel the texture.
Not long ago, prior to play dates and potty-training, I looked forward to some Me Time at the stores. The saleslady knew my first name and we often acted like long lost friends. On days when skinny jeans were not feeling so skinny, she had the perfect Prada ballet flats for me. This is the first part of my confession: I have not seen my saleslady in months. As a matter of fact, I feel like I'm cheating on her. Now my shopping is done online.