So today I need to do laundry, in a big way. I had done a major load over at Deb’s, but I’m running seriously low on my standard uniform (jeans, black tank top.) Time to go out and find the apartment’s laundry facility and brave the horror.
I was hucking jeans out of my hamper and into the laundry bag when I reached the bottom and found…gloves.
Not MY gloves. This was two pairs of full-length evening gloves in fire engine red. I am from Minnesota. We consider gloves to be survival gear, not evening wear. I do own gloves, but they are green leather lined with synthetic down. They stave off frostbite. Whatever virtues these foreign gloves might possess, frostbite staving is not among them.
I held up the invaders and stared at them for awhile, just in case I was having a hallucination brought on by overwork, cat fur inhalation, or meds. The gloves continued to exist. Hmm.
I put one on. It was a bit too large in the hands, and was long enough to cover my tattoo. I took it off. I stared at the other three identical gloves.
What…the…hell….?
The only possible explanation I can come up with is that when I purchased this hamper at Target a week ago, at some point between my investigation of the hamper (and I looked inside, I KNOW I did, one never purchases a container without looking inside to make sure that, for example, there are no alien gloves inside!) and checkout, somebody must have dropped two pairs of red evening gloves inside. Without my knowledge. Now, there was undoubtedly a stretch where I wandered away from the cart to investigate bargain sheets or something, so the opportunity was there, but why someone would do such a thing boggles the brain.
Err…fnord?
