GLOVING UP FOR WINTER CHUCKLES
I am counting down the final days of autumn.
I am indeed approaching the winter of my contentment.
These days, I pay more attention to tiny things, tiny moments, tiny feelings, tiny thoughts…things and moments and feelings and thoughts that may go unnoticed should I forget to record them in my red clay diary.
So, why are these seemingly insignificant bits and pieces so…surprisingly significant?
Why do they matter?
To work through these ponderings, maybe I should name my new car, Eloquent.
That way, neighbors can observe, “There’s Jim, waxing Eloquent again.”
Try and stop me from going on about this. Just a few more words:
The first cold morning of autumn finds me digging through the detritus on the floor of the passenger side of Eloquent. I am searching for matching gloves.
Long ago, I purchased some gardening gloves, on sale, four pairs for two dollars. Who could resist?
With every spell of low outdoor temperatures, I grab the first pair of gloves in sight. One for the right hand, one for the left hand—who cares if their shades of brown don’t match up?
But this particular morning, I can’t for the life of me locate a right-hand glove. After diligence is spent, after time is squandered, I can only come up with four left-hand gloves. Has there been a glove rebellion? Have the righters escaped?
Hmm. Have you ever tried putting a left-hand glove on your right hand? Two ways to do this, maybe three.
I turn the glove backwards and slide my hand in. A bit clumsily, since the gloves are formed to bend palmward, not the other way around. Then I try donning the glove properly, but the little finger tends to be smaller than the thumb—ever noticed that?
Maybe I should try turning a glove inside-out. Think this will work? I’ll let you know.
Now…wasn’t that refreshing? Spending two minutes contemplating something so different, so silly and so engrossing that you can’t help but chuckle at the effort?
Well, at least I got a chuckle out of it, even if you didn’t.
An old Russian proverb states, “If you can tickle yourself, you can laugh when you please.”
Here I am, just tickling myself for the sheer fun of it
© 2019 A.D. by Jim Reed