Yesterday, upon leaving the house, I thought I had lost my gloves. I couldn't find them and you have to understand that I act like a head injury victim. I put everything in it's own place that doesn't change or else I have no idea where it is and can't find it so if something isn't there, it's probably because I lost it. All I could conclude is that in a slight breach of habit of not putting them on before leaving the train to go home, I had lost them on the train. I. was. devastated.
Ridiculous I know, they are just gloves but it was like abandoning a helpless pet hamster to a horrible fate to me. My precious, cashmere, grape purple, from Boston gloves, lost, no doubt in the hands of someone else. ON the hands of someone else. Metaphorically, someone had found my hamster and was wearing it on their hands. I thought I could get over the pain of losing something I liked so much but what if I saw them on someone else. What if I saw the callous human being who found them and kept them for themselves??? What if I confronted them and they wouldn't give them back. Just the possibility made me shake with outrage for the injustice of it all. Over reaction you say? No fucking shit!
T suggested I put off the grieving process until I went home and verified that they were not just misplaced. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't! I mourned those gloves all day like nobodies business until in utter desperation, I tried clinging to a shred of hope. But upon returning home, I looked and saw that they were not there and that my hope, as I suspected was hollow. I actually broke into tears, on my way to the bathroom, as I gave up finally, on the fate of my gloves. There, on the bathroom counter, for no reason I can specify, were my gloves. Was I happy as hell? Indeed I was.
What is the moral ladies and gentlenerds? Is there one? Random luck, hope, cynicism and love of a worldly possession...where does it all lead us to. A nap on the spare office floor I think.
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