One thing I never blogged about - because I was in the middle of "Oh, Grow Up!" mode was the loss of one of my little hats.

I had a little rollbrimmed hat that I knit out of Katia Folk - a yarn that's a blend of cotton, wool, and silk and is kind of rustic in coloration and feel. I knit it several years ago, before I had the camera, so I've never posted a picture of it here.

I did make Bertie out of the leftovers of the yarn this summer.

Anyway, I had been wearing the hat during our EARLIER "cold period." And then, one morning, I could not find it.

I looked all around in my house, even in the snap top bin where I keep my hats most of the time, in case I had unthinkingly put it away. And I hunted through my car in case it fell out of my pocket in there. And I hunted in my office over here. I even looked in the department's little lost-and-found.

And I couldn't find it. And I was kind of sad - it was a good little hat, it didn't squash my hair, it wasn't terribly warm so I could wear it on kind of "intermediate" days, it was a pretty color.

I assumed it had fallen out in a parking lot and either been snatched up by one of those "found objects" people or it had got run over and torn up and mudded up into unrecognizability. And I comforted myself that at least it was natural fibers and would biodegrade. And I resigned myself to its loss and told myself it was silly to feel bad over a stupid hat. (but it was MY hat, my inner child says. And it was a hat *I* knit.)

Well, anyway - this morning I had to take something to be photocopied for my 11:00 class today. Normally we put our copying in a folder and the secretary takes it over at the end of the day, but that only works when it's something you need the next day, and I needed this today. So I trekked over there.

And while the student worker at the place was filling out the price and details of the job, I looked over at one of the counters and saw a sad-looking little pile of brown and cream knitted fabric. And suddenly a couple neurons fired in my brain.

"That's my hat!" I exclaimed.

The student worker picked it up and handed it to me. "We were wondering who that had belonged to," she said.

Yup. It was my little hat, returned to me. It must have fallen out of my pocket the last time I was over having something photocopied on short notice.

I get kind of silly when I'm happy and I commented that I had thought it was lost forever, that I thought it had fallen out in a parking lot, and I was glad to have it back because it was a hat I knitted. The student worker just sort of chuckled and said it was my lucky day (and doubtless made the "crazy sign" to the other student workers in there after I turned my back to leave).

But I have my hat back. It is safely in my coat pocket again, and I feel as if some little thing has been restored, as if some little thing is back in rightness again.

I know I tend to overreact to those things, that I read far more symbolism into loss, breakage, and restoration of small everyday objects than I should. But I'm inclined to feel that the rest of this day is going to be good because I now have my hat back.