Let us bow and give thanks to the power of sodium chloride….

Well, a word of warning to any loyal readership which I presumptuously assume exists…I’m afraid I haven’t been up to anything particularly notable of late, and have very few interesting things to report. Additionally, I’m now about to embark on about a week of traipsing around the country, skipping out on school, and probably not sitting down at a computer blogging away. A very good friend from way back (how way? We were babysat together before being old enough to attend preschool, if that gives you an idea) is currently running around Guatemala with two college friends. They’ve been in the country for two weeks while I’ve been occupied with educational pursuits and excretory system infections, and they’ve been exploring far away from here. However, Caleb and his traveling companions will be arriving in Antigua on Friday, and I’ll be there waiting for them. Apparently there’s some sort of sports-fun-day activity instead of school tomorrow, and so I’m just going to quietly skip out and hop on a bus to the city. Then, amazingly, all of next week is mid-term week. Around here, midterms are similar to our college finals, with a totally revised and adjusted schedule for everyone, Monday through Friday. Miraculously, my first final is Thursday afternoon, so I’m free to travel around until then. That being said, you can understand why there probably won’t be any blog updates for awhile.

Of course, none of this has anything to do with bleach. Why the strange blog title, you wonder?

As I looked around my room for items to throw into my strikingly empty backpack (apparently I’ve learned a thing or two about packing lightly and living sparsely; it’s only about half full!), I noticed a beloved, nearly forgotten item. My well worn Staggering Ox hat had been sitting, ignored, on the same shelf since I first unpacked. As something I generally consider a staple of summer-time attire, it surprised me to realize I hadn’t yet worn it. In fact, all of last summer, in my short-lived stint as a collegiate cross country runner in training, I’d used it nearly daily. The oppressive heat of New York City streets, choked with sticky smog, don’t have much tolerance for the stray runner adding their own sweat to the humidity. A hat was necessary if I wanted to keep my eyes clear of salty runoff, and this particular one saw frequent usage.

Eager to plop it on my head, glance in the mirror and reminisce about what I was doing last July, I lifted my hat from the shelf. Imagine my dismay when I was greeted with this sight:

A Moldy Hat.

(Click on the hat for more pictures...)

Apparently the slight discoloration around the hat band, earned through many hours of long, sweaty runs, had discovered a new purpose in life: growing. With vigor. I’ve certainly recognized the humidity of this steamy little school in the mountains, but it hadn’t occurred to me that inanimate possessions (my hair notwithstanding) would also take note.

After a quick scrub session with (this is where the title comes in) a rather stiff bleach solution, my hat has a new lease on life. There’s nothing like the nose-hair singeing scent and tenacious slippery sensation of strong chemical base on the hands to certify cleanliness! It’s a slightly pinker life thanks to the, well, bleaching powers of the cleaning agent of choice, but I’m unconcerned. Ball caps of this nature earn their position into an owner’s heart thanks to trials and tribulations exactly like this. It’s drying this weekend, instead of traveling, but it’ll get another chance.