On the front door handle, on the inside, hang the masks. Or they're on the table beside the keys. Or anywhere they won't be forgotten. It's getting hard to remember a time when they weren't there.
They now have a mood to each of them -- the basic black ones, the rainbow fractalish patterned one you got from a 7-11, the vaguely funky olive and brown one you paid too much for. Well they're all vaguely funky now, you don't wash them enough.
Time and again you're out the door and down the street and you think you've forgotten something, and pat pockets for your keys, phone, touch your face for your mask and, no, it's there, of course it's there.