The Gloves Are Off
The real benefit of being organized is that you don’t misplace things. That is until you do.
Sunday I lost a glove. I didn’t realize it until I got home as I’d been texting and wearing one glove Michael Jackson style. It wasn’t the first time I sacrificed warmth for communication. But when I arrived home, I realized the glove was gone. Digging out another pair from the closet, I headed back out to look for the lost glove.
Losing gloves happens, sure, but an organizer losing something is akin to a chef burning toast. It rarely happens. As I retraced my steps up West End Avenue, I wondered, did I lose it in the locker room at the gym? Drop it in Zabar’s when I reached for my wallet? Or had it fallen out of my pocket in Barnes & Noble?
I returned to the gym and approached the front desk. To my relief, my glove was in Lost and Found. I walked out laughing at the irony. The last several winters I’ve walked by dozens, if not hundreds, of lost gloves on the street. Each winter I would say, “I should take pictures of these gloves.” This year I finally did. So far I’m up to 34 and it’s only been three months. There’s something sad about a lost glove, seeing it lying there alone, misplaced. More so than a single sock out of the dryer. I’m not sure why I feel compelled to take photos of gloves. Maybe it’s for art’s sake. Or maybe it’s just to document how many get lost each winter.
For organizers everywhere, lost is four-letter word. We don’t lose things. Not at home, not at work and, god forbid, not on the street. It’s knowing where everything is that makes us organizers. So when we lose something, even something as simple as a glove, it’s unsettling.
As a kid I had metal clips that attached my gloves to the end of my coat sleeves. They were brilliant. But my glove photos have revealed that it’s mostly adult gloves that get lost. Which begs the question why? And I think I know. Most smart phones only react to your skin’s touch. So unless you have gloves with special sensory tips, you’ve got to remove them to use your phone. And as I learned, even in these arctic temperatures, communication takes priority over warmth.