“Of course.” She fluffed her hair. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m very high maintenance.”“Uh, I think low maintenance is what’sdesirable.”“Low maintenance is what’s forgettable. You might want to write that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It’s golden.” With barely a breath, she added, “Now let’s find out if we’re compatible, shall we?”

“Low maintance is what's forgettable. You might want to right that down, underline it, circle it and put a star by it. It's golden.”

“I wish I could say I’m low maintenance, but I like some of the finer things in life…like a toothbrush.”

“I wish people used wishes to modify themselves instead of others. Wish to be low maintenance. Wish to be autonomous, even.”

“Stella nodded. She was so glad Janet had found a new doctor after all that suffering. One thing that had astounded her was how the women—smart, educated, strong women—never wanted to bother their caregivers. They silently suffered, trying to be low-maintenance patients despite their horrifying experiences.”

“…the amount of maintenance involving hair is genuinely overwhelming. Sometimes I think that not having to worry about your hair anymore is the secret upside of death.”