Pixos Moon

In the center of our living room dangles a pull-string, suspended from the overhead fan and anchored by a crescent moon made of Pixos that one of the kids must have made. The string broke recently, and since it has been reattached, the Pixos moon hovers at exactly the same height as my forehead.  Now I find that whenever I pass through the living room, I feel the overwhelming compulsion to smack the moon with my forehead as though I were heading a soccer ball into a goal.

Now that I've been doing it for a week or so, I can't stop.  Every time I see the thing, I have to whack it with my head, or something bad will happen.

I have two concerns.  First, I need some reassurance that this is not the first stage in the OCD spiral that makes otherwise normal people do things like count the number of steps they take to get somewhere and make sure they take the same number of steps back.  Second, will the imprint of a crescent moon in my forehead be a good look for me?

 I'm reminded of scenes in Werner Herzog's Wheel of Time where the pilgrims are making a journey of thousands of miles on foot and stopping every step of the way to kneel and touch their foreheads to the ground.  After months of this, each of the weary travelers grows a third eye of calloused skin in the middle of his forehead.  That's really affecting to see, and has nothing to do with my experience of course; those people have strength and perseverance and conviction, while I'm just some dope with a glitch and a cheap plastic icon of commodity getting in his face ten times a day. 

It's just, the forehead touch, it reminds me of something I can't seem to remember, a task I forgot to see through, a goal I was pursuing but let myself get sidetracked from.  Sometimes these clues are stars in your eyes, and sometimes they're lost on the ground like a contact lens.  

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