Just The Facts

The facts are these:

The Biker and I (note the specific language here) had an absolutely LOVELY HOLIDAY!  We did!  And Boxing Day was wonderful too!  We hung out and drank eggnog and treated ourselves to some thoroughly decadent meals.  Him and I, kids, had a great holiday. We did.

It's the rest of the family that needs to be stuffed into a sack.  

To sum up:  We should have thought to turn our phones off.  

Fortunately, there was plenty of eggnog.

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I do not have a hat head.  I don't. Not a regular hat head anyway.  I put a hat on, most hats, it begins slipping and tipping and grabbing my hair and it falls off. Most hats make me look like an egg-shaped lunatic.

Ah, but give me a hat with a brim and suddenly I am a star.  I'm not bragging, just stating the facts. 

For years now my go to has been the Flat Cap. Not to be confused with the eight-paneled Newsie - that's the one the Peaky Blinders wore:  

      Not this one. No no no no no. Looks like a cowflop.  

    

 THIS one. Yes yes yes yes yes!       

The Flat Cap and I were made for each other. Flat Caps - Tweed, Linen & Wax (hannahats.com)

Anyway, I had one that I loved, and that I had paid a fair amount of money for years ago, because life is too short to go around wearing sad, cheap hats. That hat was perfectly tailored.  Flat sides, angled back, a relaxed straight shot to the brim, no snap, no buttons or tags or pompoms.  Glorious in every respect.

 That lovely hat got lost in the flood. I was so bummed.  

But guess what the Biker brought in from our storage place today? That's right! My hat!  And I am so happy!  I am wearing it right now!  (note from the future: I wore it for the rest of the day and forgot I had it on.)

I've been wearing a flat cap for...longer than I care to admit, now that I stop to do the math. Never mind how long. I looked damn good in my yoooth; I look better now, it can be argued, since my grey hair has come in very wiry and full, like a Karl Marx effect, less the beard. I look like a savage jazz aficionado with strong Communist leanings. 

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Because we already have everything, for the last fifteen years or so we've been buying ourselves a 'house' gift for Christmas. You get to a certain age and you're just all gifted out. That and we've done a lot of buying low and selling high over the years, and once a lot of things have crossed your table, 'things' stop being special.

That is why we have a brand-new carpet cleaner under the tree this year.

Now if this had been a gift to me, from the Biker I'd still be pissed off.

      "The fuck you think I am, the help? Giving me this utilitarian bullshit for Christmas. No, you fucked up, you can't take it back now, it's done, I see what you think of me, it's fine, I'll just clean the Goddamn carpets now because I'm apparently the maid" and so on. 

But if we discuss this shit and agree on it together, it's absolutely fine. Not only that, it makes for an astounding Christmas.  Bring on the industrial lathe. Wheel in the riding lawnmower. How about a new chain hoist, a car, a stainless-steel prep table for the kitchen...absolutely no romance whatsoever, no surprise, no wrapping paper, no bow, no illusion of scarcity or uniqueness, just an invoice - and it's fantastic!  I mean it. You get to gloat and congratulate one another on your combined practicality, and you get an amazing, cozy feeling of togetherness and accomplishment just knowing that this stuff is going to make your life together more comfortable and efficient. 

Plus we have lots of recreationals and rockin' chow.   

It's open house up to New Years Eve here! Stop on by! You drink, you can smoke, you can snort off the top of the toilet tank if it suits ya. You can plink squirrels, you can visit the ancestral land of my people, you can play your music loud and dance how you want to dance. Hell, there's a brand-new carpet cleaner for you to admire too!