The big hats have room to stretch out in the Rubbermaid Hat Bin, because each of my smaller hats now has its own hat box labelled with its photo.
Well, to be honest, I tucked all the costume hats in the box on the upper left. I just couldn't stand my tiara rattling around in box that could hold five of them. Now it's nestled among the fez, the toque, and the Santa hat.
And, really, was this not the most insufferable sentence you have ever read? My tiara is too small to merit its own hat box. Pity me.
I wonder what is lacking in my life that I felt the need to organize my hats? I suppose it's the chaos in the basement. Plus the repair-resistant basement makes me feel shabby.
Someday I need to finish that Grey Gardens documentary. I can see myself wearing a fancy hat and sighing that the raccoons crept through a hole in the siding to steal my tiara.