I don’t lose things. Not my keys. Not an earring. Nothing.
I’m not bragging. It’s just the way it is. Probably has something to do with the fact that I’m neurotic about putting things away. Everything in its place. (When my boys are in therapy, they can blame me for this. Among other things, I’m sure.)
The laundry was a bit behind around here. Funny, it doesn’t do itself. It got so bad that Andrew asked me to tell him when I was washing darks and he’d actually give me the pants he had on to wash. He had no clean ones.
Scary. (But very funny that he worked in his skivvies this afternoon.)
When the jeans load was finished, I took them out to put in the dryer. I heard a coin or something in the washer. Happens all the time. No big deal.
Reached in and…it was a ring.
I was ready to put it in my pocket and go give Andrew grief for losing his wedding band. Again. (Okay, to be fair, he lost his first band about 13 years ago at a crab house. It’s not as if he loses it very often.)
But wait. It wasn’t shaped right. It must have gotten dented. Oh, crap.
But wait. It was MY anniversary band. The one that nests with my engagement ring. Serious oh crap now. Where is my engagement ring? I never wear one without the other.
Heart pounding. Starting to sweat.
But there it was in the washing machine.
And the bonus? My rings are sparkling clean!