Hoopy froods - or not.

Hey you, sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is!

Douglas Adams, The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Whenever I feel self-conscious about something, that's what I look at in other people.  When I get a new haircut, I look at their hair, if I'm worried that I forgot to polish my shoes, I look at their feet, and so on.  Yesterday, I was looking for towels.

As per previous blog postings, I've had a hit and miss relationship with Towel Day, which commemorates Douglas Adams, author of the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy series.  However, this year I marked it on the calendar well in advance, and on Wednesday morning, I chose a mid-sized white towel from the linen closet, looped it through the handles of my shoulder bag, and headed off for the bus.

As per my already established self-consciousness, I spent the day looking for towels, and to my disappointment, I didn't spot one other terry-cloth indicator of hoopy froodhood - or of terminal geekness, depending on where you stand on this.  Regardless, it left me feeling a bit sad and alone.  Perhaps next year I'll just throw in the towel, then...

- Sid