In Which I Am Puzzled

The weather has cooled. The raindrops plop-plink into the Pimms pool. My fellow housemates have finally put on something approaching proper clothes. And I have a cardigan on to ward off the cold.
I seem to be pretty much on my own this afternoon in the quiet corner of the house, so that leaves me plenty of time to catch up with my correspondence (“Dear Mrs Trellis, Thank you for your kind words but I find I am unable to take part in a Stalk-and-Snatch weekend with a Humphrey Littleton theme…….”)
But there’s one thing nagging me. I use rubber gloves for housework and washing up and one of them has disappeared. I simply can’t function without them (Manual labour without gloves darlings? Do you want me to die a lingering death by cuticle damage?) I’ve checked around the house and it’s not discarded anywhere.

I’m pretty sure Mike hasn’t been doing his own version of towel-snapping in the shower room with it and Clair put it straight back (thoughtfully washing it out) after doing her amusing ‘Milking a Cow’ impression last week.
It’s not enough rubber for Girl to be interested in and poor NML has been soooo ill recently that she won’t have had the strength to lift it.

It’s too mundane an item for Dr Rob to fantasise over, Alan hasn’t been in the kitchen all week and Johnny is only attracted to bright shiny things.
Now unless Vitriolica has been dressing up Zoë as a model for her “Edward Rubber Hands” painting, I’m at a loss as to what has happened to it.
I haven’t yet checked the gazebo, or the rest of the garden and I suppose it may have been discarded by the ha-ha during our Summer Solstice party so once this rain is over, I’ll make a last ditch effort to find it.

It’s nearly time to walk the Dodo after all…..