Hat stacks, a real thing in my world; stacks of hats found in various places in my house.

Stacks of hats, usually between three and five lids, waiting for their turn on top of the noggin,

All manner of color and logo, collected over six decades, mostly baseball-type hats, with a brim to shade the face.

I’ve always been a hat guy, all the more so now that my hair has thinned and I need more protection from the sun. They add a little style, variety to a look, and they’re versatile in; you can dress it up or dress it down.

Hats make me happy.

There’s another thing happening though with these hat stacks. The stacks betray a somewhat complicated (and sometimes troubling) practice I have of putting things to the side for attention later. And I think these stacks speak to a chronic anxiety I carry, low-simmer , most days on the cusp, fraught state on the edge of overwhelmed.

My summary assessment of this circumstance? Good that I’m aware; good that I practice strategies (like writing) to cope; and good that I like hats! Because the hat stacks, they will remain ~~~