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.
Three times in my life, I have broken a glass thermometer just to play with the mercury. My mom was not pleased, but as far as I could tell she was only bugged by the need to replace the thermometer and could give a shit about my safety.
Also? There is no way she didn’t know that shit was dangerous because my dad is a metallurgist (that’s physicist speak for “person who knows a shit ton of stuff about metal”), so I can only conclude that she never liked me and didn’t care if I died.
Also also? Brian and I don’t wear wedding rings. We have matching tattoos because a) that’s just how classy we are and b) you can’t lose a tattoo.
Your parents?
All kinds of fucked up.
We have so much in common, you and I!
But tattoos?
Not fucking even.
OW.
And also?
Too much closeness.
I would only be able to do temporary rub-on tattoos.
And as a wedding ring?
That would be less than ideal.
Hee hee!
The other day I took in our rings to have them cleaned and inspected…because I still do that…every six months. Anyway, in my purse are my engagement ring, my wedding band and my husbands wedding band. Way too much pressure on me not to lose anything!
ACK!
The pressure!
ACK!
LOL I think I sounded similar to that on the phone after I thought I poisoned myself by opening a Clorox toilet drop in package with my teeth out of habit. I never lost my ring..but I can’t keep a watch more than a month. I have downgraded to the cheapy watches at Target and buy them in bulk. ;)
Snort!
Clorox poisoning! Snort!
I am OK with my watch (which I don’t wear all the time), because it is a big heavy metal watch. Far more difficult to misplace than my ring.
At the moment? I believe my watch is buried in the bottom of my purse.
I get fidgety . . . and as much as I like the watch?
When I focus on it? I must take it off.
I am weird.
I no longer wear the first ring Brian gave me, because I chose to keep it where I always knew where it was. At the bottom of a nearby lake. At least I always know where it is, and I never have to worry about losing it (again). Funny, now that I think about it, he hasn’t taken me back to that lake since. He hasn’t taken me to *any* lake since then. Wonder if there is a connection?
You?
Are way funny, lady.
At the bottom of a nearby lake.
Snort!
I am so happy to learn what merecury does to gold. That is just the sort of awesome geeky information that makes my kids think I am cool.
Now for a lost ring story: One of my friends once called the “for more information number” on an M and M package, and when a cheery voice on the other end of the line asked him how they could help him, he asked them if they knew where his wedding ring was. He was all kinds of crazy like that, and I loved him for it.
Your friend?
All kinds of crazy!
That is excellent!
Mercury is pretty fun to play with even though it could kill you or something like that.
I lost my wedding ring once. My engagement ring actually. Ya know the one with the big shiny rock that everyone always goes around showing off the second it goes on yourfinger? Yeah that one.
Hubs and I got our steps a little out of order. We met, fell in love, got knocked up, got married and then had a baby. With all the excitement of the baby, we didn’t ever get wedding bands. We did that for our first anniversary. That is a very sweet story of my hubs occasional thoughtfulness that I will save for another day. Anyway, When I lost all the baby weight after G was born, my ring was way loose and I looked down one nite and saw my naked finger and was all WTF MY FINGER IS FUCKING NAKED WHERE THE FUCK IS MY RING OH MY GOSH BEN IS GOING TO KILL ME OH I CAN’T BREATHE I CAN’T BREATHE I’VE LOST MY RING AND I AM GOING TO DIE AND OH GOSH I HAVE TO FIND IT!
So I search the house and shine flashlights in all the drains and search the washing machine and the dryer and the carport and the yard around the carport and take apart the vacuum cleaner and then I sit in the floor and sob until I can’t see to run to the bathroom to throw up all the snot I had produced from crying my face off. Ben comes home from work to a sobbing mess of a wife because she has been without that big gorgeous shiny ring for all of 40 minutes. He looks for it as I am still dying my miserable death of lostringedness. He found it in the laundry basket that I had just brought in from the dryer. Right there on top too. I felt so silly for crying like a loser and he made fun of me.
I love that man so much!
Chlorine? Also bad for gold. Makes it brittle.
So anyone looking get a new ring? Use lots of chlorine products and swim in chlorinated pools!
This has been a PSA for Kris and all her fans.
Ooooh . . . an evil PSA!
Love that!
YAY!
LOVE YOU, LOVING EVIL MOM! hehehe!
We are similarly wedding ring challenged around here. Happened to look out the upstairs bedroom window last week and see hubby’s ring just sitting out there on the deck. Toddler boy apparently chucked his ring out the window when husband wasn’t wearing it (which is rather common and really annoying…same toddler very nearly choked on the same ring last week because same husband was not wearing it when he should have been). Of course I made a big deal about all of the above and then proceeded to lose both my engagement and wedding rings for three days. Stupid husband found them in the stupid dryer.
Amber -
I may blog about this some time . . . one time, I was in an ER for some minor emergency of my own.
And there was a very sad man with his happy toddler son.
And then there was a doctor with an X-ray, holding the film up so everyone could see.
A toddler-sized outline of a body, and then within? A perfect small circle.
Hee hee!
Yup, that was almost us. So, so, SO glad that I did not end up having to do diaper recon to recover a swallowed ring, though insisting that my husband wear the ring after it went through our son’s digestive tract would have been kinda fun.
Amber -
Snort!
That part about making your husband wear the ring after retrieving it from the diaper?
The fact that you would take joy in that fact?
I like your style, lady!