Hats, hats, and more hats....

What is it with some guys and their hats?

They're like a teenager with their phone.

The other morning Sean was banging drawers, closet doors and mumbling.  I was trying to ignore him when he yells; "Have you touched my hats?!"

"No, honey.  I only touch them when you hang them on the dresser mirror.  Then, only to toss them on the closet shelf.  Where they belong."

He then proceeds to ask me "where the hell is my black hat?"

Like I would know.  I put all my things back in their designated spot so I can find them again next time I want them.

And besides, what black hat?  I see 3 right there on the closet shelf.

But apparently they were not the right black hat.

And none of the other 20 hats will do.  

He still hasn't found his black hat.

And I still have no clue what black hat he's looking for....


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