I have lost my wedding ring.
It’s not really lost. It’s around here somewhere.
It’s kind of lost.
Sigh.
I should not be trusted with small valuable items.
I have a long history of irresponsibility where my wedding ring is concerned.
Not long after I got married?
I get sick, and I decide to take my temperature. Because when you are a grown-up and you are sick, taking your temperature is all reasonable.
So far? I am all reasonable.
We had one of those mercury-filled thermometers, and so I stand in the bathroom and shake the mercury to the bottom of the thermometer.
Shake it against the tile of our vanity, and crack the thermometer right in two.
And then I watch as a lovely magical ball of mercury slips its confines and bounces shimmering along the counter.
Mercury is lovely silvered ethereal stuff.
Also? Poisonous. But never mind that. This is a happy story.
Sort of.
I am entranced. I cup one hand beneath the countertop and roll the gleaming orb into my palm. It bounces and wiggles. Almost playful.
I sink to the carpeted floor and roll the mercury this way and that way in my hand.
So fucking beautiful.
Beauty sometimes lulls you.
So I am all feverish and stupid and sitting on the floor like an idiot, rolling a poisonous ball of mercury from one cupped palm to the other.
I am all happy and content, in that way stupid people can be made easily content.
Ooooooh . . . pretty!
And then? I see that my wedding ring appears to have changed color. And that what was once gold? Is now silver.
What the fuck?
But I am not that concerned, really. I decide I like it better silver, anyway. I play with the mercury for a while longer, because I am perhaps a bit delirious with fever, and it is just that fucking awesome to watch the metal ball of reflective liquid dance in my hands.
So happy.
And then?
I actually focus on the fact that my ring is silver.
Well . . . shit. That’s not good.
Uh oh.
So I hurry to clear all evidence of my stupidity. I sweep the broken thermometer glass into a trash can. I regretfully flush the mercury ball down the toilet (shut up about the fish I poisoned . . . I was not in my right mind). Wipe down the countertop.
Wash my hands.
There! All better.
Except for the fact that my ring is now silver.
Fuck.
And then? Because I am delirious and probably feverish (I never did get to take my temperature) and newly married and poisoned by mercury and more than likely wracked with pre-menstrual hormones?
I collapse to our bedroom floor in a sobbing mass of snot and tears and hysteria.
And then I reach up with one hand for the telephone.
And it is in this state that I call Mark to tell him of the tragedy.
My end of the conversation went something like this . . .
Babe it’s really bad it’s silver and I am poisoned and sick and I do not deserve to be married to you because I am so fucking stupid and did you know that mercury is evil because it so fucking is and my ring is silver do you hear me it is silver and that is not good because it is supposed to be gold and I am such a fucking idiot plus I am poisoned and I knew it was poison but it was just so pretty and I think I have a fever and I don’t feel good and the ring is ruined babe symbol of our life together ruined I am just too stupid to live and by far too stupid to be married to you and now I can’t breathe because I am hyperventilating I think or else the mercury is squeezing my lungs is that how mercury works and I so did not know that mercury would fuck with a wedding ring and I am sorry so very sorry and say something so I know you’re not mad.
And Mark said, “What?”
Sometimes? Mark doesn’t fucking listen to me.
And so I explained again.
So annoying.
Make a note people . . . mercury bonds with gold and weakens it. Our delighted and way-dramatic jeweler smacked the poisoned ring against the counter, and it just shattered into pieces.
So then I got a new ring.
Which I lost.
And then I got a new ring.
Which I have now lost.
It’s not really lost. It’s around here somewhere.
Pretty sure.
Sigh.
Reading your blog (and the comments, of course) is the highlight of my day.
The. High. Light.
Not sure what that says about me, but I choose to believe it’s all good.
I can always count on you to make me laugh out loud.
Thanks for making my day.
Again.
I also choose to believe it’s all good.
The alternative is unpleasant to imagine.
I prefer to think that we are both completely normal!
YAY!
Love you.
Hmm. Never played with mercury. I’ve always fancied lead, myself. It’s so soft and bendy…but really heavy.
At least you didn’t lose your wedding ring like my dad lost his…he wiped & it went down the toilet before he noticed it was gone.
That is an awesome way to lose a wedding ring!
I have lost my wedding ring many many times. I am just that stupid and forgetful.
Only REALLY lost it once.
And secretly?
That was actually sort of awesome, because the ring I have now?
The replacement?
Love it.
Now if I could just find it.
Damn.
Plus also?
As far as irresponsible poisonous metal play goes?
Mercury kicks lead’s ass.
It so fucking does.
I really am not worthy. I admit this. It’s just the only poisonous metal I’ve ever played with. *sigh*
It’s alright.
As a bonus?
You are unlikely to ever get mercury poisoning.
YAY!
My ex-husband lost my wedding ring before we were married. We moved in together after he’d bought the rings & he “lost it in the move.” He didn’t know he’d lost it until I asked for it a couple weeks later to show one of our friends how the wedding & engagement rings fit together to make a neat diamond heart shape.
He also never replaced it. So we got to the wedding with no ring for me. Perhaps I should’ve taken that as an omen. He was never a bad guy, just didn’t really take me that seriously.
I had forgotten about that. Hmm.
My wedding ring now? Stays buckled to my watch. I take them both off at once & put the watch band through them and buckle it. We have 2 dogs, a cat, 2 small children, & Hub. I take no chances.
Plus the watch is bigger & easier to find where the hell I set it down…
For me?
It’s a good thing that irresponsibility with jewelry does not signify (to Mark) my lack of commitment.
I am just an idiot.
Mark’s good with that.
The ring bearer at our wedding turned three only four days before the wedding. So we had a little pillow and a fake ring made out of foil. The real rings were with his father. The best man and my husband’s brother. The ring bearers mother was all offended that we didn’t trust her son with our rings. She complained loudly. I had just met her that day.
I didn’t budge on the ring thing so she decided he needed a real ring on the pillow. She tied her wedding ring on… within minutes he was shaking the pillow above his head and the ring went flying away. Did I mention we were married outside? We looked everywhere. Even went back a few times but the ring was never found.
I like being right.
That is awesome!
Agreed!
BEYOND AWESOME!
that is really really awesome!!!
That is a really satisfying thing to be right about. :) hehehe
I’ve learned to keep my damn trap shut about my kid & what he can & cannot be trusted to do. I think he just likes to make a liar out of me for his own entertainment.
It is so much fun to be right.
Happy sighs of agreement.
Good shit, right there.
I’m sure you’ll find it soon.
Last week? The hubs was all huffy about something and less than delicately put his hand to the counter. His Tungsten Carbide wedding ring? Shattered in 4 pieces.
It’s being replaced, but it’s not the same.
PS, I know that is the risk of Tungsten (shattering), but really, 4 pieces while it was still on., I would’ve thought he was the Hulk.
It has to be around here somewhere.
I have not mentioned the missing to Mark yet, as he will be all, “Where did you last see it?”
And that drives me nuts.
And you’re right . . . the replacement is never the same.
Sorry about that.
What was he huffy about, anyway?
And I so did not know that Tungsten could shatter.
Luckily I have no Tungsten.
Because I would so shatter it.
Honestly? I cannot even remember. Probably something about us being sometimes sleep deprived parents of a young baby and then everything else gets blown out of proportion. I was just wanting to go to sleep, and instead I had to deal with the drama of a shattered wedding ring.
I then had to assure him that it wasn’t a sign of the universe. Sometimes being the rational one? Is exhausting.
Snort!
Yes, Mark would agree.
I exhaust him.
Apparently.
Tungsten carbide rings can shatter? Shut UP. The jeweler never told us that when we bought my husbands. They said the thing was damned near indestructible. Now I’m pissed. It had BETTER NOT shatter. That’s all I’m sayin’…
But what if it does?
Then what?
Be careful!
I lost my ring once. Well I knew where it was but we couldn’t get it. It was a month before our wedding and Rob asked for a pre-nup. He doesn’t own anything, not even his car. So I grabbed the ring and chucked it at him. I was a new mom, I had just had my first surgery ever, and I was sleep deprived. It got the point across. However he did not catch it when I threw it at him. Oh no. He let it fall into the couch. So let’s fast forward to making up and me asking for my ring back. Yeah not so much. Let’s fast forward again to the couch upside down, shit all over the floor, and the bottom slashed open in several areas while I am crying again and Rob is trying to get my ring out. Eventually we shook the couch enough and it came out, but it was pretty iffy there for a bit.
The couch? Was not ours.
OK, that last sentence?
That just makes the story, right there.
That’s just awesome . . .
The couch? Was not ours.
My husband loves to twirl his ring around the smaller part of his finger. He did this right into my Mom’s couch on Christmas Eve. We flipped, shook and twisted the couch and we could hear it roll from one end to the other but we could not get it out. We had to resort to slashing the protective fabric on the underside and reaching up into the arm and fishing it out. Those couches are tricky.
Another person with a ring-eating couch!
I wonder if that’s where mine went?
I never checked there.
Rats.
Our couch? Eats all manner of things. For entertainment we clean it out periodically. It’s like Christmas.
Damn it.
I should have checked that couch before we gave it to Goodwill.
Damn it.
But you said you like this new ring better, remember? IF your old ring was in the Goodwill couch AND someone else found it, think about how happy you must have made them!
Fuck. Why couldn’t it have been me.
All I find in couches are crumbs and severed fingernails and toenails. Fuck.
I do like the new ring better. Much.
But I do mourn the stupid loss of the ring with which we got married.
Even though the stones were all that was left of that original ring.
What with the mercury and all.
Ahem.
Sweet! A science lesson. I never knew mercury would do that to gold.
I’m feeling all enlightened now.
As for your ring, no worries. It’ll show up somewhere weird like you coin section of your wallet. For some reason, thats where mine always shows up. Or on the plastic cow in our bathroom…don’t ask.
Mine tends to show up in a pocket.
Or in the laundry after it has fallen out of a pocket.
Mark is forever impressed with my commitment to our life together.
Another science lesson? Egg yolks can turn a silver ring iridescent colors. Ugly iridescent colors. Learned that lesson with my wedding band while making deviled eggs and am happy to report that I only had to learn THAT lesson once.
Permanently?
Really?
I so did not know that.
Nope, not permanently.
But I didn’t know that at the time and pretty much freaked out and made an ass of myself in front of my husband and step-kids.
Damn eggs.
Eggs are the devil’s minions.
Clearly.
And didn’t you say these were deviled eggs?
Duh.
You? Are all kinds of wise.
Yet another reason I need you in my life.
Again?
Duh.
Love you.
Hey! Have you thought of tattooing a ring on your finger?
No?
OK, just wondering. Sheesh.
OW!
Plus . . . personal space issues!
Plus also?
Smart ass.
So you think you’re better than Pam Anderson and Jenna Jameson?
Oh, wait.
Hee hee!
I thought I lost my engagement ring in a biohazard box in a hospital.
It was next to my bed.
I realized later that day.
After all the danger and needles and blood.
{sigh}
Snort!
The time I lost my ring for real?
I tore our fucking house apart.
But it was nowhere.
Sigh.
I have played with mercury on the carpet. So cool.
It is so very cool!
Not a good idea.
But so cool.
I love these lost ring stories!!
I have not lost my ring because I never, EVER take it off. Well, for my surgeries I take it off, but beyond that, it is always on my finger.
Maybe I should take it off. I have an upgrade in mind. ;-)
I take mine off all the fucking time.
When I am typing. When I am bathing. When I am washing the dogs. When I am cooking. When I am out walking in the heat. All the fucking time.
And then I put it down.
And that’s where the problem starts.
My husband is constantly giving me a hard time about the way I lose rings (and other things). His first gift to me, a necklace, I wore to bed and woke up without and never saw again. Then he gave me a ring he bought in Ireland … lost it at a hotel when I took it off to wash my hands before checking out. My engagement ring I have lost several times: once for a week on the porch (it fell off while I was taking out the trash — when we found it it was very sad and stepped-on) and once in Wal-Mart when we were walking around trying to get labor going (my hands were so swollen I switched it to my pinky, and it slipped off). It really sucks to save such tiny tapering fingers — which swell to about two sizes bigger every time the weather gets hot, and shrink to a size smaller when I’m cold.
For some reason, though, I’ve never lost the wedding ring. I guess it fits a little better.
Yes.
You are me.
And my fingers?
They swell when it is warm. ACK! I take off my ring.
They shrink when I am cold. ACK! My ring is loose and annoying. I take it off.
I love being married.
But the symbol of that marriage?
Gets on my nerves.
When I was pregnant? Not only did my belly expand, but my ring size went up too. So I took my wedding band and engagement ring off at 5 months and put them away. They still don’t fit. All the weight lost and my finger is still 1 size bigger than before…which is still small at 5.5. So, what do I do? I take a sick amount of pleasure in purchasing really good looking fakes…yep, beautiful, stunning, stop you in your tracks wedding sets, that cost very little and look amazing. I figure this way, I get a new set every so often, and I can keep my original set (that I love so very much and it was real thankyouverymuch and expensive) put away for my children one day.
When I was pregnant?
I wore my wedding ring on a necklace.
I like your idea better.
Much.
My solution?
Just announced to the world I was all fat and swollen.
Sigh.
Right now I am wearing my ‘slightly too large but now fits because I’m all swollen and pregnant’ engagement ring and my wedding ring sits in my jewelry box. It WAS on a necklace around my neck but I got sick of hitting myself in the face with it whenever I bent down or did anything. Now I’m going to go home and check to make sure it is there in a paranoid fashion.
Paranoia is always a good idea where unreasonable fears are concerned.
At least, that has been my experience.
You? are some kind of witch, aren’t you?
I sat here, eyes running over the words describing the mercury over and over again, almost like I were rolling a ball of mercury in my hands.
Of course, I? Was contemplating using the mercury to poison my boss.
Wait, what?
I LOVE YOU!
And I am all witchy this morning.
Thank you!
That was witchy, right?
With a W?
Just checking.
And that’s it then: you have chosen for me the story that I will be writing for an upcoming guest post that I have been invited to put together.
Just you wait.
What?
I have inspired you?
I am all impatient to read this story.
I hate waiting.
I have to wait until I’m told the date for it.
And then you can quit harping on me.
You know I like to pester you.
You live for it.
You need a hobby.
You are my hobby.
Duh.
i had no idea. thank you for the public service announcement.
i only take mine off when kneading bread. and it bugs my husband when i do that. he thinks it is sad that i take it off. which is so endearing, that i endeavor to keep it on. sigh.
My ring is off more than it is on some days.
But I am always just as married.
Snort!
And your husband?
Way fucking sweet.
Just saying.
yep, way fucking sweet for sure.
and i’m in the mood to remind him just how sweet he is.
thank you for that public service as well!
Go, you!
I am all do-gooding up in here!
Yay!
oh! and i should revise! i really meant, i take my ring off when kneading pizza dough.
because i don’t actually make bread from scratch.
and i don’t want you to feel all inferior and stuff.
just pizza dough, simple, no crazy bread-making going on at my house.
for reals.
OK, so who the fuck would have noticed me feeling all inferior about my lack of bread-making skills until you came back here and pointed out my insecurities?
Damn you.
And aren’t you supposed to be busy?
What with the needing?
ha! i believe i was dismissed at the same time i had to go anyway. that worked out well.
off to fondle some vegetables.
Mmmm . . . zucchini.
Happy sighs.