The reason I can’t have nice things

It’s actually not my kids, it’s me. (Sigh.)

Yesterday I lost the lovely little diamond band N gave me for our 10th anniversary earlier this year. I was using some serious chemical anti-mold stuff to clean under one of our bathroom sinks where the faucet had been leaking so I took off my rings (I wear two stacked on my ring finger) and put them in my pocket so they wouldn’t get gunky.

HOURS LATER I realize in a panic that I’m not wearing my rings and they’re not in my pocket anymore. I find one of them lying on the couch but I can’t find the other one anywhere. I’ve been looking all over the house but half of our house has this thick shag carpet that hides dropped tiny things really well. And I can’t remember if I took them off before or after I made a quick IKEA run. I think it was after, but eep.

N was really sweet about it. I would have been a little bit upset if he had lost something expensive/sentimental that I gave him because of carelessness but he took breaks from cooking dinner to help me look and after I went to bed I heard him looking some more on his own.

I’m going to try and not let this cast a pall over the weekend but I keep worrying about it. Right now I’m going to go give my bedroom the most careful vacuuming it’s ever had and then my sister Jan is taking me out to lunch for my birthday. I’m hoping that it will eventually turn up, but even if it doesn’t things will be okay.

More than okay, even.