Zen Mystery from the Annals of Unpacking

 It was packed in a sandwich size zip lock baggie. Other tech cords and connectors were in the same box.

A masking tape label was wrapped around the cord. Black sharpie, my handwriting.

The label read “heated glover recharge cord.” Nothing else. All she wrote. Nada.

May 6 inches long. A USB plug on one end, two thunderbolt plugs on the other. I have absolutely no idea.

I edited “glover” to “gloves.” Seemed logical even if spellcheck missed it. I still had no idea. No recollection of ever having possessed heated gloves. 

Only frigid possibility would have been teaching in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. But my tenure there in 1975 pre-dates PCs, USB and thunderbolt ports.

I inserted a hyphen “g-lover.” Gay? Garlic? Gallic? Maybe my puerile French girlfriend, 6th grade. 1960?  See tech mismatch above, even more so.

Could be the cord was intended to recharge an artisan who made gloves in an unheated garret?  An unheated garret requiring USB and thunderbolt ports?

“Perhaps all of the above, Grasshopper, perhaps none of them.”