Wringing my hands

Boxing Day, 6am. I awoke after getting some very, very horrible news last night and opened my laptop to see that George Michael was dead.

Now my wedding ring is lost.

I know that in the face of massive celebrity news, the loss of an item of jewellery, however sentimental, might seem paltry but this is a wedding ring and I have lost it in the most annoying of ways.

I was sitting on the couch, determined to finish my blog early today but also worried about a friend who was connected to the previous horrible news. I had sent her a message and had not heard back. At some point, my stress manifested by me moving my wedding rings off my ring finger and somewhere else.

It is like a nervous tic, and usually I move the rings across onto other fingers and move them straight back. There are three rings in total, two plain bands and a ring with stones. The plain bands sit on either side of the engagement ring.

When we got the rings, I was quite big and it was summer so my fingers, which are huge anyway, flapping about as they do at the end of shovel-like hands. I had the plain bands made slightly different sizes so that when I was enjoying cooler weather or a smaller waist, I could wear the smaller band on the outside and swap it for the bigger band during hot weather or fatter times.

I was on the toilet when I suddenly realised I had moved the rings while talking to my friend. Except that the ring with stones and one plain band was where I expected it to be and the other was no where. Not on the pinkie of my either hand or anywhere else.

I had been playing with my nephew earlier and my brother had taken photos, so it was easy to confirm that my rings were on my fingers earlier, because my left hand was visible. The problem is that I do not have any recollection of moving my rings this evening until I realised they were moved and one was gone.

Have you ever tried to retrace your steps? My husband tried. Since he left me for a few hours, I have been in every room in this house and in the car and down at the park. What a busy little beaver I am. The most obvious explanation for this, though, is that either I moved the rings while on the couch and then got up causing one ring to fly off the top of a temporary finger and into furniture of furnishings or bounce off a wall and roll under … anything shelves, sofas, rugs, dog beds – maybe into the Xmas tree. The other option is that the reason I realised I had lost it while on the loo is because that is where I lost it, although I do not remember hearing it fall. If so, it is gone, because I actually stuck my hands down the loo to check.

My husband was at first sympathetic, and then upset. I am just upset. There are worse things to worry about, but the inability to retrace my steps because I did the whole thing in an absent-minded fugue state is not helping. He tries to quiz me about what i did before and after I lost the ring, but I do not remember moving them. It was an absent-minded thing. I do not know why I did it, although I usually do remember doing it: the last time was in a swimming pool.

I have pulled the couches apart and all this has done is to confirm that we already know: that Lucy sheds a lot of fur.

I guess I should feel lucky that I have two wedding bands as the set up still looked normal, it just does not feel right.

Dammit. Where are those tiresome hobbits when you need them? (Never read the book myself, thank god).



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