Occasional Wombat

I miss Hat.

Hat is a black fuzzy newsboy-style cap that was hand-made, which I purchased at a music festival several years ago. I wore it more often than not.  I am so fond of it that it has earned proper noun status.

When I moved from Sacramento to Oakland, Hat accidentally got packed.  See, I was sick, and the movers had been hired to do the packing as well as the moving, and I forgot to take it away from the things they were packing so that I could wear it.

Once I was moved, I did some unpacking.  I unpacked all of the wardrobe boxes that had been brought to the house. Hat was not in them. I did a cursory glance at the contents of the other boxes that had been brought to the house that I didn’t need to unpack right away. Hat was not in them. I gradually worked my way through all of the wardrobe boxes that had been taken to storage. Hat was not in them.

There are still boxes in storage I can check, but at his point I have no idea at all which one might contain Hat and the other things that had been hanging from my bedroom door.

I have other hats, of course, but while they do look good on my head, I’ve never felt like they suited me quite the same way. Also, most of them are wherever Hat is. I can currently only locate two fedoras, the warm hats that were purchased after I moved, and two of my Burning Man hats.*

Finally, after much searching (of the sort where I would pass by a hat display on my way to buying something else and would stop and look through the offerings), I located a hat a few weeks ago that will serve as an acceptable surrogate until I can once again be reunited with Hat.

* I may own a lot of hats.