Day of Baldness 2

It's the name of a horror movie sequel--or should be. I see zombies in the future, bald ones, with pus coming out of their heads from not having worn a cap. Death by sunburn (which probably would be one of the most hurtful ways to go around, at least in terms of the length of the torture).

But I was not one to be part of this movie, at least not this weekend. On my way to work on my friend Courtney's chicken coop this weekend, I actually remembered to grab a cap before I left. I walked again. It was sunny and quite warm, but my head was protected. The protection kept me from getting burned, but it did make things a bit warmer. Things cannot be perfect after all.

Here's the protective gear this weekend: an Angels baseball cap. I hate baseball caps these days, I guess, because they make me look like some kind of sports nut. Even if I actually am an Angels and Dodgers fan, a baseball fan, I am not the kind who would wear sports team paraphenalia. (Now that I'm older, I wish I'd kept that Kauia painters' cap that I never wore.) But alas, I am the kind to wear such items, because if they're in the wardrobe, they get worn, even if I don't like them. So I had the cap AND the shirt on yesterday. The shirt was a birthday gift from about seven years. It isn't just a tee shirt: it's a jersey. It was all Angels. I looked like some kind game-day pimp.

And I helped put together a chicken coop--or part of it. Apparently, this is not me either (according to others), though I like to pretend to be a woodworker.

But at least I didn't get burned.