I picked up the pen I'd grabbed from a large mug on our kitchen counter minutes before he arrived.
It moved haltingly across the paper as I signed the first of several papers I would be handed in succession.
"I write like an old woman," I moaned aloud as I surveyed my shaky and spotty handwriting.
For the second signature, my husband handed me the pen HE was using.
It moved smoothly - confidently - across the line.
I sat back satisfied. Relieved to recognize my own writing...
What a difference a good writing tool makes!
And why hang on to an inferior one when so many other perfectly fine ones sit waiting to be used?
Lesson learned. Several, actually.