My gym has a rule that every member has to carry a towel when they’re working out, to clean off the sweat after using a machine.

I’ve chosen an itsy bitsy towel.  In Canada it would have been a facecloth.  In Belgium I’ll call it a face glove.

This morning I noticed that the gym glove was gone.  I’d been to Basic-Fit yesterday and no doubt left it hanging on the elliptical machine.  For the second time in ten days!  (Sigh)

So off I trudged gymward, my chin dragging on the asphalt.  I won’t tell you the words I chose for self-recrimination.

As I approached the Zuivelbrug (a bridge), I decided to shift gears.  I’ll get people to pray for the existence of my towel.  So … two guys I know at Soup Lounge, three female employees at Panos Langemunt, and the barista at Izy Coffee.  That’s six prayers!  Although more than one said “It’ll be gone.”  (No, no … I need praying, not the voice of doom)

Up the elevator to gym land.  ID card to get in.  Walking towards the bank of six ellipticals.

Yes?  No?

Yes!

There sat my face glove on the arm of a machine.  Thank you, honest members, for knowing I’d miss it if it was gone.

Smiling and planning, I walked towards Izy.  I shoved the lovely orange thing under my coat at the back.

Empty hands and a sad face as I approached the barista  >  “I told you so”  >  (Whipping the towel out from behind my back)  >  (Barista’s eyes wide, accompanied by a broad smile)

Lovely

I repeated my sleight-of-hand at the Press Shop, Panos and Soup Lounge … all to smiles and high fives.

Life is good