I lost one of my gloves. It’s far more devastating than it should be.
It was chilly out when I went to walk the dog to my mom’s house at 5:30 this morning, and so I put on my comfy gloves in an effort to combat the cold. About 15 minutes into the walk, I realized that my hands were a tad too toasty, so I slipped off the gloves, clipped them together, and stuffed them in my back pocket. However, because I have a fat bum, I could only fit one glove in my pocket, and left the other one dangling out. No worries, I thought, they’re clipped together.
I dropped off the dog, walked back home, and it was only when I got in the door did I see that one of my gloves was gone. Did I drop it? Did it escape? What should I do?! I carried out my morning routine, and on the way into work I did a quick drive of my earlier walking route, to see if I could find my missing glove. No luck.
Is my glove laying on a cold sidewalk somewhere, lost in sadness because it thinks I abandoned it? Is it calling for me? Is it calling for its fellow glove? When it dropped off its little hook, did its fellow glove cry out, desperate to get my attention as I was walking along obliviously, just drinking my mocha and watching the sky turn from black to navy? Is it shivering? Is it lonely? Has a dog stolen it off the ground, mistaking it for a chew toy? Has it been rolled over by a stroller wheel?
Or did my glove make a break for it? Did it seize an opportunity for freedom, and work its way off the hook as its fellow glove cheered it on in support? Is my glove now hiding in doorways and bushes, making its way south to live out the rest of its days with all the other escapee gloves, on the tropical Island of Free Gloves? Should I think twice about going to find it after work today?
I’m so confused. I hate it when I lose things, because I’m never quite sure how to feel.
Glove, I miss you.
Please come home.
Happy Thursday, all.