This past weekend was an all-hands-on-deck affair at my brother's house. Their move was coming soon, and there was still a lot to pack (read: the kitchen).
Little brother (he's four years younger than me, but he's about six inches taller) spent the weekend going through the masses of stuff in the garage. Because he was doing a lot of heavy lifting and moving of boxes, he wisely was wearing work gloves. When he could find them.
The previous weekend, LB showed me a pair of mismatched gloves. He couldn't find their mates. As my sister-in-law went through some of those boxes from the garage (sorting), guess what we found?
Missing gloves have become a running joke.
On Saturday, LB was busily running around. He had a bed to disassemble. He had boxes to move. He was wearing the gloves. And then...
I attempted to help look for the missing gloves, but as I hadn't seen him put them down, I couldn't do much but offer suggestions ("Are they in the car?"). I thought he found them, but then on Sunday a new pair were purchased to replace the missing ones, so apparently not.
We finished emptying most of the cabinets in the kitchen, and so it was time to start on the drawers. I pulled out stuff while my mother put that stuff in boxes. I got to the drawer which contained aluminum foil, plastic wrap, and storage bags. In the midst of this I found the gloves.
I took the gloves outside. I held them up for LB. His reaction was priceless.