Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

I never thought the day would come that someone would steal something of mine here at JARC, but today proved me incorrect. In recent times, I have made it a habit to hang my uniform on one of the shelves just outside the kitchen before going on my snack and lunch breaks, as a way to protect it during my moments of consumption, ensuring it will not be dirtied by any accidental stains while I eat my food. It all started one Thursday afternoon. On Thursdays, our house manager buys $10 meal tickets so that I and the others in my group home can have something to eat from the kitchen. It's always delicious, but sometimes the meals can be messy. On one occasion, it was lasagna, and unfortunately for me and my uniform, lasagna is one of the messiest foods out there. Anything that involves sauce is a risky proposition when you are wearing something you're expected to keep in good condition. Try though I did, I could not help getting a few spots of sauce on it. From then on, I have elected to hang the uniform up; thus far, it has worked out well for me. And yet, I cannot help but be concerned about what the future holds for my odds of being able to keep doing so without fear of a thief possibly coming along. You see, when I leave for my breaks, not only does the uniform get hung up, but atop that uniform my hat is placed. I was gifted two hats today, one by someone who lives in one of the other group homes, and another by one of the highest-ranked people here at JARC. Normally, this is cause for celebration, and as kind as the gestures were, it is unfortunate that what preceded them was as far from kind as it gets. On Mondays, the kitchen staff are invited up to the board room on the second floor to spend some time with one of the JARC coordinators. Not only do we eat our lunch there, but we are also gifted some 'bonus' snacks, while at the same time being informed of upcoming events. Today went quite well; I was joined by several of my coworkers, including the one who got me interested in Israeli music. I put on several songs for him, and as is the norm he began to get very excited. He likes to sing, raise his voice, clap, move his feet, snap his fingers, and tap the table. Music seems to move him in much the same way it does me. I have figured out a better way to regulate his engagement with the songs he likes so much. Normally, whenever he gets too loud, I gently remove the earbuds for a few moments, before putting them back on. He usually responds with a childlike "I'm sorry." It's absolutely adorable, because although he's nearly forty he is still like a child in many ways. He can't help it, as like me he is autistic. Our minds work a little slower, but our hearts are pure. I've found a method that seems to be equally, if not more, effective: instead of taking off the earbuds, I turn the volume down. This could work with the same sort of effectiveness, if not greater; the risk of potentially hurting his ears by accidentally yanking the earbuds off is fully mitigated, and it is easy for me to turn the sound back up if he wants to hear the music again. "Kevin, can I have more ear?" My heart absolutely lights up whenever I am around him. He is such a kind, precious soul. Being with him is one of the things I enjoy most about being here at JARC. The time we spend at work together makes for some of the most enjoyable and meaningful moments I experience during a given week. I've even started to pick up some of his habits; when he gets really excited and 'into' a song, he will start to go over some of the things he likes. (He's got enough likes to put the average Cali valley girl to shame.) Depending on my mood on a given day, I will play along. I might reiterate one of his 'likes,' to which he will respond with the same or a similar one. On other occasions, I'll say some of the things I like; depending on his own mood, he'll come back with one like from his lengthy list, or may not respond at all. Sometimes, his mind gets caught up in his work, and it is very good when that happens. When he is focused, he is one of the best workers in the kitchen. He has become a go-to guy for carrots, and understandably so. I've learned from watching him; having practiced a few times, I feel like I do well technique-wise, but have to work on speed. His speed is truly incredible and if he takes good care of himself, he should be able to keep it well into his forties. He is quite youthful for a man who will turn forty in August. While they say 'forty is the new twenty,' it's true that you can lose a bit of dexterity by that point in time. I don't think it will happen to him, not anytime soon at the very least. These days, I can't help but be worried; in less than a decade, I'll be forty myself. Those could be some of the best years of my life, but also among the most difficult as more and more people who have been so helpful to me start to get older. I will have to become more self-reliant in order to get by. If I can prove myself now, transitioning at an older age should be a lot easier. It was enjoyable to be in the board room, but as we had less than thirty minutes, we had to make every moment count. I'd say we did the best we could with the time we were given. And whoever had an interest in my hat certainly did their best; after walking back downstairs--I would have been doing it all along had I known where the stairs were; I had been using the elevator, which to me is not as good for my physical conditioning as ascending and descending staircases--and heading through the auditorium back to the kitchen, I was walking towards the kitchen, my attention concentrated on the shelves. I saw my dark blue jacket which I had brought today as a way to protect myself from the elements, and that was good. I saw my white work uniform, which is even better as I need it to do my duties on any given day. I have three available to me right now, two white and one black, and I'd be genuinely peeved if anything were to happen to one of them. Now, I'm not sure if I can even leave my uniforms hung up and leave with the fullest assurance that they will always be there when I get back. My jet black hat with a red Puma logo on it had been stolen. A young man who works in 'Environmental' was nice enough to give me an orange one, to ensure that my head would not be hatless when working in the kitchen. After explaining the situation to the kitchen staff, my supervisors were nice enough to let me head out for a bit and look around to see if I could find the hat on anyone's heads. I looked all around the auditorium and could not find any likely suspects. I checked the hallways and went up to the second floor, again climbing the stairs, and explained my issue to a female JARC coordinator. She advised me to speak to someone downstairs, who shares a name with a character from "Inside Out" (I'll let you guess which one). As I proceeded to go back to the first floor, I was greeted by an exceptionally important individual here at JARC. I spent some time in his office, where he is always accompanied by his two big and beautiful dogs (one male, one female). He was kind enough to get me an additional hat, so I ended up taking two home instead of one. I am still hoping to find the black hat and if I do, I'll be reclaiming it post-haste, but with as much dignity and respect as I can possibly muster. It's a reminder of the importance of being careful. Like all things in life hats come and go.