What the fuck is a hat party?
So, I got to therapy an hour early yesterday which meant just doin some sittin in the waitin room. For those of you who have never been to a therapy waiting room, most people don't really see the difference between the therapy waiting room and their living room. They just feel they can talk openly about anything and the people sitting around them won't hear a thing. So in the chairs near me sat a 60-year-old woman and her 80-year-old mother. The mother was the one there for treatment. She was asking a bunch of really heartbreaking questions about how long depression lasts and if not reading with comprehension was part of depression. It can be. It can also be part of being really fucking old. But then she said something that caught my ear quite by surprise. She said that they'd had a hat party. When the daughter asked if that was fun and if she'd worn a crazy hat, the mother replied that she couldn't get any joy out of that either. Now...if you're 80 years old and you can't get any joy out of a hat party...kill yourself. I didn't even know what a hat party was and I was having the time of my life just hearing the phrase. So, the mother went into therapy and I still had like 40 minutes before my appointment. I spend 20 of those minutes wresting with my conscience. What was the social procedure here? They were talking in clear earshot of me, but it clearly a private conversation. And I didn't need to know the whole history of this poor woman's mother's condition. But I needed to know what thing. So at last I manned up and inquired "What's a hat party?" I qualified my question by stating that I wasn't trying to listen in, but couldn't help but hear. "A hat party?" she asked, confused. "Yeah...she was saying they had a hat party. What is that?"
"Oh, at the retirement home. Everyone puts on a funny hat and they talk about the hats."
"Ah. Where does one get a funny hat if one lives in a retirement home?"
"You'd be surprised."
"I already am surprised, I don't even know yet."
"My dad has one with a propellor."
"Do they just bring them with them when they move in and just hope one day they have a hat party and their hilarious hat is necessary?"
"Oh, no. They have a box of them."
So...the point here is, my various suicidal faithful readers, don't kill yourself. If you live long enough, you can participate in a hat party. And if that's not a reason to live...then there is no reason to live.
"Oh, at the retirement home. Everyone puts on a funny hat and they talk about the hats."
"Ah. Where does one get a funny hat if one lives in a retirement home?"
"You'd be surprised."
"I already am surprised, I don't even know yet."
"My dad has one with a propellor."
"Do they just bring them with them when they move in and just hope one day they have a hat party and their hilarious hat is necessary?"
"Oh, no. They have a box of them."
So...the point here is, my various suicidal faithful readers, don't kill yourself. If you live long enough, you can participate in a hat party. And if that's not a reason to live...then there is no reason to live.