I think I can assume you all know about single sock syndrome. (The mystery of how only one sock of a previously matched pair comes out of the laundry.) (Ok, so I couldn’t let myself assume it. Sorry.) I have to admit this is not a frequent occurrence when I do laundry (maybe because I don’t do laundry frequently?), but I throw the lonely sock into a special drawer, and often when I’m throwing it in there I see that its mate is already there. Reunion! Delight! (I love matching things. Although, somehow, my single friends have always been safe.)
But gloves are much more devious. This very evening I went to find my bringing-wood-in gloves. Incidentally, I have gloves for everything. Gardening: digging gloves, planting gloves, shoveling gloves, pruning gloves, rose pruning gloves (with the nice long leather sleeves), etc, etc. And I have working with wood gloves (that’s firewood, not fine furniture), and putting wood in the stove gloves. I have cold weather gloves and really cold weather gloves. (The current pair makes a maple leaf when you put the two singles together—LOVE IT!) I have driving gloves, some for long trips, some for quick trips. And gloves just for looking good, elbow-length, wrist-length, and fur-trimmed. You get the idea. Having a mother-in-law that works in a glove–packing and –making factory only feeds my obsession. She’s very generous and seems to always find the right size for my long fingers.
I’m getting a little sidetracked. (Too excited about all my gloves…) Let me try to focus: so I was reaching for my bringing-wood-in gloves and…they’re not there. How can that be? I, of course, turn immediately to Troy and accuse him of using my gloves. (They’re in a pile of communal gloves, but I naturally think of them of mine. I know: I have a lot of issues to get over.) He admits to it, so I start the search for the next best bringing-wood-in gloves. So many things to consider. Leather, synthetic, insulated, size, how dirty are they, how dirty are the insides (because I want to be able to eat popcorn that Troy is making for me as I bring in wood), etc, etc. The first few I pick up all turn out to be left gloves. This is where I finally am relating gloves back to the socks. I actually try on two left gloves, but I need to pick the wood up with my right hand and the left glove is just a little too awkward. So I settle for the next least-bad gloves for bringing in wood, reach for what looks like a pair and they are two RIGHT gloves matching none of the left ones. AAHH! But at least I had a solution. I wore two mismatched gloves, got the wood in, and am now going to enjoy my popcorn. It is my consolation for a world that just not right. (Or, just TWO right! hee hee)
And if you’ve seen some vacationing gloves that seem to be missing their mates, please send them back. They’re needed at home!
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