Please, come home.
You are the best hand warming things I have ever had in my 23 years of life. The leather mitten facade you sported was only topped by the nice fleece glove you were on the inside. Let’s just say, you have been my very favorite thing this winter. Even more favorite than my scarves, and you know how much I love those. (This is as close a depiction I can get to my actual glovetens…they look very similar.)
I appreciated you more than you will ever know. On those days when I would stop into the office for an hour in the evening, only to come out and find my car covered in ice, you were there, to keep me going and push that scraper just a little bit further. You were there when I needed to scoop the sidewalk (that one time) or scoop my car. You got the mail with me. You completed my winter ensemble. You protected my freshly painted nails from the cold, bitter winter.
I thought I took good care of you. I made sure the two of you were always together. I heated you up with my hands so that you weren’t cold either. I never spilled soda or coffee on you. I rarely got you dirty. I didn’t wear you when I took out the trash. When you got sick, I took you to Andrea for surgery, and she made you better. I wore you sometimes even when I was inside, on the couch, just because I thought of you as slippers…for my hands–I loved hanging out with you.
So, I don’t understand, glovetens. Where have you gone? I have been searching for you for days. After months of never letting you out of my sight, POOF! You decided to leave me, didn’t you? Or were you kidnapped? Where are you, glovetens? I need you to come home. I loved you so much I don’t even have a B team to pull in to the game when you’re out of commission–because I never dreamed you would be. This morning, as I walked in to the office, my hands were freezing off–one was holding my soda, the other holding my purse, and I missed you more than ever. I accidentally bumped my hand on the railing coming up the stairs, and three of my fingers snapped right off–frozen through, to the bone. My life is literally painful without you. Especially when it is 20 degrees and brutally windy. Please come home, glovetens. I miss you. I need you.
With love, and very cold hands,
**If anyone has any information about the missing glovetens, please let the author of this post know. Author’s sibling, please make her day and tell her that her glovetens have been shacking up at your house like little runaway teenagers?