Glove Love

This week I've been doing things to close up "it may be a shack but it's our shack." Things like bringing chairs up from the beach, bringing loads of towels etc. back, clearing out cans of old old old (yes, that old) paint.

I've been wearing work gloves. As a bonus, I also found a pair of work gloves over there, a pair I thought I'd lost.

After doing stuff on Monday, I left the gloves on the bench on the front porch of the house to, I don't know what. To get some sun, I guess. To air out. To be dealt with later, is probably the most honest statement.

This morning, one of the gloves was lying on the grass in the side yard. The other three are nowhere to be found.

This would be called Glove Mystery except that while I was off visiting family a couple of weeks ago, Roy happened to see a young fox playing with a shoe in the yard on the lake side of the house. Playing like a dog, in fact--shaking the shoe as if to break its little neck.

The shoe, which we left in the yard in the hope that the fox would reappear, is not mine and certainly not Roy's.

The shoe apparently showed up with the fox.

Who apparently thinks that white eyelet slipons are so five minutes ago (much like the phrase "so five minutes ago").

Who apparently has developed an extra-special liking for my work gloves.

Roy checked a few obvious places this morning for the other three gloves, to no avail. We suspect they are the new wallpaper or bedding in a den somewhere. I hope whoever has them enjoys them! And I'm trying not to feel rewarded by this. Because now I don't have to decide whether the gloves are salvageable. Plus I have only one to throw away! The benefits of procrastination.

But mostly, it's really weird to think that the fox came onto the porch and took the gloves.

I guess it's no weirder than when the bear took a swipe at the front door handle.

Yeah, civilization and wilderness. Not so different around here.