Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The Corduroy Conspiracy (Dumbass Things I've Done Lately Week: Day 2)

Bridal Veil Falls
One of my favorite items of clothing that I own is my corduroy coat. It's light enough to not be bulky, but lined with a wool-like substance that keeps me warm and snuggly. Other than a hole in the lining of the left pocket (which I'm sure my long-time-reader ma-in-law would be willing to mend for me come this weekend) it's perfect. In fact, it's the only coat I took with me to Alaska, back in May, (as can be seen in the accompanying photograph) and served me very well there.

This past Autumn, it went missing.

I'd taken it with me on a trip out of town back when the weather first began to get chilly around here. However, I never actually wore it during the trip. Instead, it remained on its coat-hanger, hanging from the hanger hook in the back seat of my car. Days turned to weeks and the coat remained in my car. In late October, after another out-of-town trip in which I had to borrow the Wife Wagon (or, as my friend Joe has dubbed it, "that ugly ass Honda Element") to do some hauling of boxes back to the homestead, I returned to find that the back seat of my car was littered with pine straw. I deduced that the wife, who had been driving my car, had parked it somewhere beneath a pine tree and left the windows down long enough for the straw to collect there. It took me a few days to get around to cleaning it out and by then I noticed that in addition to the pine straw there was also, on the back seat floor, an empty coat hanger.

I didn't immediately try to do the math on this, though. Instead, I assumed I'd taken my coat in the house. Only, the next time it got cold, I couldn't find it anywhere. Maybe I'd moved it to the trunk? Nope, not there. Maybe I'd taken it with me on that out of town trip and it was still in the Wife Wagon. Nope, not there either. Eventually, my brain processed the clues of the pine straw and the empty hanger and I began to wonder if someone hadn't nicked it from my car while the windows were down. That's certainly an asshole move, but on the flipside, perhaps it was someone who really needed a warm coat.

I asked the wife where all she'd been while driving my car, days before. My guess was that she'd been to Wal-Mart, had left the windows down, allowing some jerk the opportunity to hork my coat. It certainly couldn't have been my fault, because I lock my doors EVERY time I get out of the car, regardless of whether I'm at home or at work. The wife claimed, howerver that the only time she'd gone out was to go to a baby shower and it had been at someone's house way out in the country, with plenty of pine trees around, hence the needles. No one would have stolen my coat out there.

I accepted her word, but wasn't sure I really bought it. After all, this is the same woman who frequently can't find her car keys because she's left them in the ignition of her unlocked vehicle, with her pocketbook on the seat to boot. I believed her, but still wanted to blame her, because I couldn't resolve how my coat had been stolen unless she'd been the one to leave the car unlocked. She suggested I'd left it somewhere on my out of town journies, which I supposed was possible except that I'd never actually worn it and, again, would never have left my car unlocked, allowing someone to take it.

More weeks passed and I began looking for a new coat. The only trouble is, there just aren't any clothing stores in the area that sell the sort of coat I'm looking for. Oh, there are some corduroy coats to be found, but most are cheaply made things that do nothing for me. I wanted MY coat back, the one that probably still had alder and wild sage residue in the pockets from my attempt to make Alaska potpouri.

Then, one cold December day, it began to rain. I went to my closet to find my enormous black overcoat to throw on against the chill. As soon as I'd pushed back the hanging clothes around it, though, I burst out laughing. There in my closet, where I'd looked for my corduroy jacket many times, was my corduroy jacket. It was hanging on a coat hanger, but was hidden from view due to the enormous black overcoat wrapped around it on the very same hanger. My guess is, I'd had them both in the car and had wrapped the one around the other to haul them into the house with greater efficiency. I couldn't even be mad about it, cause at last I had my coat back.

It's a good thing, too, cause it's snowing again.


Monster Library Student said...

Ah...I too have a courdory coat like that--I freaked out once when I couldn't find it, and it to had hidden on me.

Anonymous said...

I sense a clothes-doubling theme in this week's Dumbass Chronicles.

Anonymous said...

so will you get ma-in-law to patch the hole?

An employee of a small town "liberry" chronicles his quest to remain sane while dealing with patrons who could star in a short-lived David Lynch television series.