So we're, uh, about ten minutes into winter and already I've lost one of my gloves.

I have turned over the house looking for that glove. I also hunted around at the gym, in case I left it there. I scoured the Marnmobile. No glove.

Like Elvis, my glove has left the building.

This always happens to me. I never, ever lose an entire pair of mittens or gloves. Oh, no, I only lose one which leaves me with The Big Question�do I throw out the orphaned bit of clothing, or hold on to it in the hopes that its partner will materialize?

I have a bag of uni-gloves and uni-mittens, mute testimony to how seldom a lost glove or mitten surfaces. When I lose 'em, they stay lost. It's my special gift.

Is there anything sadder than a single glove? I look at mine, sitting there by the telephone, all alone, bereft of its life partner. Is it quietly sobbing, shattered with grief? Is it waiting until I fall asleep so it can crawl upstairs and strangle me in my sleep as punishment for my callous loss of its beloved?

Note to self: stop watching the Scream Channel before bedtime. Marn, you are much, much too impressionable to be doing that.

Now I have to face the nightmare of finding new hand wear, not a simple proposition because I have very long fingers. Apparently the people who design gloves and mittens live in a world of midget digits because I seldom find anything that fits me anymore.

But I refuse to look at this negatively. Oh, I'll find something. Eventually.

Or I'll contract frostbite and enough of my fingers will fall off that average gloves will fit me.

Oh yes, there's always a bright side. Sometimes you just have to look just a little bit harder to find it, eh?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 838.58 miles.

Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers