I looked down at my finger yesterday and noticed that my diamond was missing! I'd just gotten to the mall, stopped in the ladies' room and realized with horror that perhaps it'd taken a trip down the drain never to be seen again. I retraced my steps, ransacked the trash-twice, and went to security to leave all my information. I even had a mother and her four children rolling underneath my car to no avail. My husband sat calmly, watching another chapter unfold...he's been there before with me, but this time, it seemed like the real deal. In fact, he was certain the ring was probably at the bottom of the Great Swamp.
Last night, I was awake at 1:30, 2:00, 2:30...you know the drill: retracing a week's worth of movements in my mind. Mental torture, plain and simple. This morning...I talked things over with a few friends, and everyone agreed that the best we could do was pray to St. Anthony. So...of course I did. And just as the song says--"he's gonna find me some piece of mind,"
that is exactly what happened. I returned home, went through the car and my pocketbook just one more time, and then gave it up. I walked back into my bedroom and glanced in my jewelry box...and of course, you know the rest. Lodged underneath a few other random items, a familiar sparkle caught my eye. My anniversary diamond! It was the first very real evidence that my husband had a drop of money to throw around after...fifteen years of marriage!
So how could it be that anyone would be so stupid as to lose a diamond? Multi-tasking: the art of cleaning the jewelry box while talking on the cell phone. I was slipping off my ring to try on all the old rings of my past...and I walked off and forgot to slip the right one back on! Once again, evidence of my true blondness!
Tomorrow, I'll be off to the food pantry with yet another loaf or two in the name of St. Anthony...patron saint to the abstract-random blondes in this world!