He walked into the room, carrying one of his white dress shirts.
him: Is this a work shirt?
me: Does it say “work” in the collar?
him: No, but see how frayed it is.
me: I wrote “work” in the collar of all your white work shirts.
[I did this to make it quicker to sort the laundry, so I didn’t have to think about which white shirts were his dress shirts and which white ones were his work shirts.]
him: Well, I think it is a work shirt because it is so frayed.
me: So why did you ask me?
him: I wanted your opinion.
(Yeah, don’t worry if this doesn’t make sense.)