Losing
I can’t find my left-handed scissors and it’s bothering me. I know they must be somewhere in the house because I haven’t taken them anywhere. They’re probably wherever I left them because I’m the only left handed person in my family.
When my wife bought the scissors for me a few years back, at a local left handed shop, I thought it was a nice gesture, a sweet gift, but not really a big deal. I mean, I could cut paper with right handed scissors and was pretty used to it. The first time I used them, however, I was amazed at the difference. I didn’t feel awkward, there was no cramping in my fingers, and it was easier to cut the paper straighter. I became quite dependent on them. (As a teacher and a father of two young children, I have plenty of occasions to use scissors. You’d be surprised).
I found myself getting irritated if anybody else used them – unless they were left handed, of course. So, I put some tape around the handle. Makes them easy to identify, but not necessarily easier to find under all of the loose papers, boxes of Lego, books, puzzles, balls, clothes and other stuff that is as thick in our flat as plants in the jungle. When you lose your mobile phone, you can have somebody call you. Keys that can find your car in the parking lot were one of the greatest inventions ever. But when a low tech object is lost, it’s lost.
I’ll have to do a major cleaning, and eventually I’ll find them. I suppose I could buy another pair, but I’d hate to have to do that. I like those scissors.
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