lost and found
I dropped my mittens this afternoon. A pair of colorful, knitted convertible mittens I got on clearance at Gap Kids for 49¢ about ten years ago. I’ve been wearing them religiously for the past few years, ever since my stripey mittens (possibly also bought at the same time as my knitted ones) sprung a little hole. I also bought a cute, very comfortable pair of pink undies with strawberries on the front at that sale… but I digress.
Frantically, I retraced my steps, all the way back to the three grocery stores, to the library where I dropped off a book, to the museum’s locker, running all the way because I didn’t want someone else to pick them up and go home with them. You can drop one mitten and be more or less assured that no one will want to take it, but when you drop a pair, all bets are off. They’re practically screaming for a new owner, a new pair of hands to keep warm.
“I’m looking for my mittens? Have you seen them or has anyone turned them in? No? Oh… thank you then.”
Weaving in and out of the mid-afternoon crowd of middle-aged Scousers and slow-walking university students, I was surprised I didn’t get a stitch because god knows I haven’t run in an eternity.
As I turned up empty at each location, I kept hoping that maybe they were at the bottom of my backpack or in the front mesh compartment all along, hiding behind Raspberry’s mittens, and that my panic and running out of the door had been premature. “They’re kids’ mittens, so maybe they’re too small for most adults, so they’ll let them be,” I prayed.
More than once, I thought I was certifiably insane to be running all over to find these 49¢ mittens, especially when I have at least six other pairs of mittens at home (oh, you didn’t know? I have a mitten problem). “I could start those awesome grey fox mittens from Urban Outfitters. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise,” I thought.
Finally, as I was waiting to cross the last major intersection before home, I spotted them! Pink and blue and brown spots smack in the middle of the busy road. Cautiously and elatedly, I darted out into the street to retrieve them, lest they be run over even more than they already had been. The left mitten, now slightly grey and black and flatter, has noticeably been run over by several cars, but the right one seems to have mostly escaped its partner’s fate. I must’ve looked mighty crazy, standing on the corner with cars whizzing by, smiling widely to myself as I caressed my found mittens. Who cares, and who knows why I failed to see them when I initially ran across the street? It doesn’t matter. I found my mittens.Advertisements