My favorite things

So, I don't usually get too attached to stuff. I'm a pitcher, not a hoarder, though I do have a sentimental streak that balances out the pitching tendencies. I tend not to fixate too much on 'stuff,' but a mundane experience this week showed me how very attached I am to my favorite things.

I left the house Tuesday evening running a little behind and amidst light snow. I had to swing by the in-laws' to drop off some scrapbooking stuff and pick up some knitting needles and then head over for out biweekly 'winter fun' night, which consists of watching TV and eating. (Hey, it's winter in the Midwest, and there are approximately 7.5 hours of functional daylight. Anything that doesn't involve me wrapped up alone in a blanket on my own couch eating carbs is serious fun.)

Somewhere between leaving and returning, I lost my favorite winter hat. I immediately emailed my friend and my mother-in-law to see if I'd left it at one of their houses. I feared that I'd done what I've done countless times before: get hot in the obligatory defroster blast in the car, take off my hat or gloves, set them in my lap, and then get up out of the car with a bag or other handful of stuff and let the gloves or hat drop into the slushy grossness of the street and not realize it.

For some reason, losing this particular hat greatly disturbed me. It's not that exciting of a hat. It's cream-colored knit with a little bill in the front and a button on the bridge. (That description makes it sound terribly ugly.) It is the only winter hat I've ever found that manages to be both cute and actually warm. The other 'stylish' hats I have sit up above my ears and do nothing against temperatures below 20 and wind. The traditional stocking caps I have are warm but kill all semblance of a hair-do and are just incredibly unflattering to my large, square head. This hat is perfect. G. bought it for me in a sketchy army surplus store in a small town in northern Wisconsin two Octobers ago on our (incredibly cold, dreary, rainy, but much needed) weekend trip to Madeline Island. I love that hat, and, clearly, I'm attached to it.

I was mourning it already, but my mother-in-law called last night, and they found it in their driveway near where I'd parked. Oh, glory be! I am inordinately excited about reclaiming my beloved hat!

So, what is your relationship with stuff? Quick infatuation followed by boredom? Long-term loyalty to a few favorites? Don't give a damn, ever? Less is more, but only the best of the best?

Here is a partial list of things I'm inexplicably and irrationally attached to:

1. Apparently, my winter hat.
2. My orange scarf from Bolivia. A friend once told me it was the scarf incarnation of me. She was right.
3. My 70-year-old pawn shop engagement ring. It's really and seriously beautiful, but I also love that we bought it at a very small fraction of its value and that I found something I liked in a pawn shop when I could find nothing I even remotely liked in any normal jewelry stores. Victory! (Could probably also be stretched into some sort of metaphor for our marriage, but I'm not so sure I want to go there.)
   
4. My Cavalier. God, it's my third red Cavalier. I have only ever owned Cavaliers. That is truly pathetic. I publicly disparage it, but I got *such* a good deal on that car, it's been paid off for 5 years, and it still has less than 100,000 miles on it. I could drive it with my eyes closed because, well, they don't move the knobs much on newer versions of cars, and I've been driving one for (gulp) 17 years.
5. My green velour couch. My friend's aunt off-loaded it onto her for her college apartment, and her husband was about to banish it to Goodwill from their basement 8 years ago when I got back from Bolivia. I saved it. It has moved with me 7(!) times. It is, by all objective measures, ugly. It is also uncomfortable for anyone over 5'5" tall (short people RULE!). It is also the anchor of my living room and my favorite place to sit in the wide world. I recognize that I will someday have to get rid of this couch, but it will be a long, hard battle.
   
6. My Chacos. Yes, they are comfortable and functional, but I love them beyond what any practical concerns could dictate. I am a Chacos evangelist and wear them nearly exclusively for 5-6 months out of the year. Maybe they are the shoe incarnation of me? I killed my first pair in Bolivia, bought a new pair when I got back 8 years ago, have sent them in for repairs twice, and plan to stay loyal to them until I have the opportunity to kill them in potential Peace Corps, round II.