when one has finally given up all hope of ever finding them.
Location: my wardrobe
where the urgent need for a knee brace [ I need to train Bear out of his habit of jumping enthusiastically into the back of my leg when he wants to play 'fetch' ] had me searching the innards of the tote bag that I only take to clogging classes. It is just the right size for a couple of pairs of tap shoes, some CDs, spare socks, some bandaids ... and an elastic knee bandage brace thingy.
Knee braces are a necessity for those of us, well past the first flush of youth, who still insist on engaging in high impact pursuits like Appalachian Tap, so I rarely bother to take it out of that bag. I mean, I know where it is when I need it, right?
what with the surgery [ and the run-up to the surgery ] there hasn't been an awful lot of clogging in my recent past, and no need to wear knee protection, so the bag has been stashed away at the top of the wardrobe.
A couple of weeks ago, I was bemoaning the loss of a pair of fingerless gloves that I'd managed to misplace before I'd even photographed or blogged about them.
I hunted high
I checked every bag, basket, drawer and coat pocket that might conceivably harbour a pair of rolled up gloves, I even checked under the bed and that space under the driver's seat in the car that attracts old shopping dockets and stray mints.
It didn't cross my mind for a single second to haul down the dance bag. It was completely off the mental radar.
So of course that is precisely where the missing gloves were hiding, along with the matching cowl that I don't actually remember making ... and the brace of course.