First snowfall for us here in southern Ontario, Canada. It’s not much, won’t stay, but it doesn’t take much to get me in trouble.
While my wife , Alice, was getting ready for her doctor’s appointment , I decided to shovel off the porch and clean up her car. Nice of me , I thought. “Where are my gloves ?” I asked.
She said they were in the second drawer from the top in the back porch cabinet. I started to look but there in plain view was a perfectly good pair and I didn’t have to search around.
A nice pair too, brown suede, leather on top, and a good fit. I removed snow from the porch and car , fed the chickens, rabbits, pigeons and pig. I filled four five gallon buckets with fire wood and noticed that although quite dirty, the gloves were warm and held up nicely. A small tear in the thumb but that’s par for the course with me.
On way back to the house I noticed Alice looking for something in her car. She had on her ‘ going to town cloths’ and looked nice. Something about our generation I guess, we wouldn’t think about going to church , a funeral or to the doctors in jogging pants.
She hollered back asking if I seen her gloves, the brown suede pair with leather on top. The ones that matched her coat. My world went very silent for a few moments. It got very warm for a winter day.
I collected myself and slowly slipped my hands behind my back. Too late, she noticed my awkwardness and in a huff, placed her hands (cold hands) on her hips, and sharply stated “Those were new dress gloves.” Then promptly slid in behind the wheel and drove off.
I waited until the tail lights were a mere blur and sharply placed my hands (warm hands) on my hips and replied, “Well excuse me for living.”
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Keep the faith friends, it gets better, it always does.