A Plug For North Face

Ironically, the hat I purchased last night is called the High Point Hat, purchased at what felt like a very low point. Let me paint the picture for you: I'm sick, should be resting but work beckons. I stay at work late trying to catch up on my days out. I step outside in a winter coat, thick gloves and a small but warm scarf that is wrapped twice around my neck ad tucked into my coat. The wind hit my face, uncovered, and my first thought was, "My skin is going to rip open." Next came, "My ears are going to sizzle off my head and shatter into pieces when they hit the ground." And just as I was thinking that I was seeing three of things as my vision was slowly freezing over, a man of about five feet in height was speed walking towards me, head cocked to the wall, and screaming on the top of his lungs. Mostly jibberish with some incoherent "Get Away's" and "WHYYYYYYYY?" It's amazing how a psychotic man on the loose barreling toward you can sober your thoughts right up!

Unfortunately, by the time I got into Port Authority and waded onto my bus, my head had turned into a pounding drum, freezing and sweaty. My ears stung and my eyes ached. And don't get me started on my nose. Ten tissues in, I had half a mind to repurpose my scarf since it seemed useless when I needed it most.

I thought about "Northern Exposure." I never saw Janine Turner's nose drip profusely. And this is why I can't really claim to be a solutions oriented person. As I got lost in a fantasy world, my friend K had a very realistic solution. Get a hat! Logic evades me when I need it most nowadays. I hope to keep logical friends by my side as I transition into older, old and eventually, a great grandmother rocking on her front porch telling whomever will listen that I used to live in a small town in Alaska, with almost no hair on my head and not once a runny nose!