It is often the smallest event that reminds me of the cost of living in a metropolis. I have a shopping bag, made of parachute fabric that folds small and is always with me, to whip out when needed. Today, because it had a 4″ rip down the side, I took it to my friendly seamstress at the cleaners down the block to ask her to please stitch it up. She did. The charge: $5! She gave me an out when she said ‘Is that OK?’ My reply was that I had hoped it would be less. ‘Then 3’, she said. Of course I paid it without another word, but I hoped it would be 1.