Last night got cold. I had to close all the downstairs windows, and I’m glad I did because it’s been raining all morning, and the house has a sweatshirt worthy damp chill even with the windows closed. Henry is quick to go out and quicker to come back inside.

When I was a kid, a rainy Saturday ruined the whole week. It meant staying inside and trying to find ways to entertain myself. TV helped fill the time. I watched all the Saturday programs. Later, if I had a book, I’d hide in my bedroom away from the noise of kids stuck inside and read.

It’s a rainy day, and I have fallen into old habits. I’m watching TV to pass the time, and I’ve started a book by Harlan Coben, Don’t Let Go. I Bought the hardcover at last week’s farmer’s market. It was a dollar. I’ve already gotten more than my money’s worth.

I have all sorts of collections. I have hats. They are on a Hat tree, a real tree in the guest room, and on the bookcase here in the den. Some of the hats are old. One is a red Panama hat I bought in Ecuador in the 70’s. All the women there wear a similar hat. I have an old navy hat and an old army hat. I have my ancient brownie beret and a boy scout hat. I have a brown fedora which reminds me of my dad who wore one to work all the time I was growing up. One of the hats was worn for Easter by my sister when she was young. It is a pill box with flowers on the top and a ribbon and bow. The ribbon hangs down in the back. Three of my hats are from Ghana. A red fez reminds me of Doctor Who. The bowler is like the one John Steed used to wear on The Avengers. The band hat has a plume. A soft brown woman’s hat has feathers. It looks like the sort of hat worn to complement horse riding garb. The train ticket collector’s hat is blue. I have a wide brim pink hat. It is one of my favorites.

What is ironic here is I don’t wear hats. I just collect them.

I haven’t bought a hat for a while, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up hats. I am just getting choosier.