Sleeping bags have temperature ratings, and seasoned tent campers know that a 32-degree bag might keep you alive at 32 degrees, but it won’t keep you comfortable. Venturing out for a backpack camping trip with 40-degree damp nights and my 32-degree bag, wool hand-knit socks, long-sleeve shirt, hand-knit sweater, down vest, long pants, and fleece long coat, I was a bit concerned when I realized I had forgotten my hat. No worries, I have a mummy bag and I can tie the top down tight.

As the temperature dropped, I could not get warm. Eyes watering, nose running, and throat burning—I could hear everyone else sleeping. The coyotes started howling. I lay there shivering with my arms over my head, bag tied down tight, and me curled up at the bottom of the bag frigidly half awake, half asleep, dreaming of a hat. It would have tight cables and be super long so I could pull it down as far as I pleased—over my eyes even, if I really wanted. Or I could tuck it under itself in the back. I could roll it up. Heck, maybe I’d knit an I-cord to permanently tie it to my stupid 32-degree sleeping bag. All night, I shivered and froze, dreaming of this hat and every iteration of how I could wear it and never forget it ever again for as long as I lived.

The next morning, I hiked all the way back to the car, digging through the glove compartment and center console, searching for my stash of hand-knit wool hats and mittens, still wishing for this hat.