Each alternating color represents a single number in my birthyear. One black stripe, or row stitched, nine white rows, nine black rows, eight white rows.
There’s something irrational about the satisfaction I get knowing I was born in 1998. It just has a ring to it. 1999 has too many nines and it’s odd, which does not sit as well with me as even numbers. 2000, even though it’s only two years younger, just sounds too young, but 1998 sits just right.
