“What’s your favorite color?”

Such an easy question, wouldn’t you think?

That was my mom asking, though, and given the context, I had a feeling she was aiming to get me a gift, most likely clothing. Gods, please, no. Not that again. Not a godawful honkin’ bright purple shirt that will never get worn, even out of pity and obligation, even while lounging around the house. How do I answer? Let’s go full-on philosophical. Split every hair in sight.

“It depends. What are we talking about?”

“Huh? Just… your favorite color, that’s all!”

“But it depends. Do you mean like pure, abstract, contemplation of color for its own sake? Then I like purples and blues. If you’re talking about clothing, I like faded, worn colors — whites, greys, blacks, olive drabs; nothing bright. If you’re talking about painting my living room for me, I like soft, warm colors, anything from yellows to browns to greens. If you mean when it comes to vehicles, I like that grey-green color that I’ve seen on some Toyota trucks. If you mean hair, almost anything goes. If this is about flowers, the brighter and more varied, the better. So, again, what are we talking about?”

She made an exasperated noise and went back to what she was doing.

I don’t try to make people’s lives difficult, I really don’t. I just can’t play along with questions that demand a one-size-fits-all answer.