"I can't leave this house without that hat," I holler down the staircase to anyone who might care about what I have to say.
That head count is different from those who might actually hear what I am saying. "Have any of you seen it?"
This time the silence is only broken by the sound of feet running toward the front door and a second later, the door slams shut.
I have to face all of the worst disasters by myself. I know that from other times that I was left alone to face the cold heartless world by myself.
I begin rummaging through my closet, through every closet in the house, through my dresser drawers, through my husband's dresser drawers but I cannot find that hat which is the only thing that will pull my special outfit that I intend to wear on one of the coolest holidays ever… Saint Paddy's Day.
I had everything else I needed.
Three weeks ago when Wal-Mart first started pushing their line of holiday merchandise I found a delightful pair of white socks covered with green shamrocks from the tip of their toes to the top of the ruffled band that hugged my knees. And undies to match. It was insane. I felt so powerful as I went out to my car.
And, like magic, on the same shopping day, but at the Peebles store instead, I found a white sweater with a picture of tiny little leprechauns frolicking around, clapping their hands and kicking out their little feet as they boogie around an enormous pot of gold.
And then in the trifecta of shopping extravaganzas – Boscov's had a hat that combined the utilitarian use of a green felt hat with the age old slogan that all Irish people have embraced for centuries…Kiss Me I'm Irish… and I was all set for today.
I sat on the fact that I would be one of the best dressed Irish people in North America for all three weeks despite the traps set by my friends.
I had to practically bite off the tip of my tongue when the phone call came in wanting to know if I wanted to go shopping that day. The call combined my two favorite things into one day of unbelievable chances to enjoy myself. Shopping and also shopping for St. Paddy's day. It couldn't be expected to get any better than that.
"So, you want to go shopping with me and see what we can find to wear for St. Paddy's day?"
It was hard on me to keep quiet about my finds when my poor, outfitless buddies were pumping me. "Any ideas on what we should buy for St. Paddy's day?"
I had had enough. I couldn't take all the pressure.
"OK, I can't stand it anymore. You win. I accidentally went shopping without you and I found the perfect outfit, down to the hat."
"Are you there?"
I might as well be talking to my family. Nothing.
The dial tone came on after about a couple of seconds, I hung up on my side, too, heartbroken and totally broken in spirit.
My life is in ruins. I not only don't have anyone to go out shopping or gallivanting with on St. Paddy's day but I don't have a cute green felt hat to set off my outfit.
Being Irish isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
(You can reach Janet Good, Somerset, at any time of the day or night simply by emailing her at email@example.com.)