Sadness

... We haven't declared it lost yet, and that's the upside to this story. ...

Thursday was a long day. A good day, but long. By the end I was ready to melt into Rob's arms and forget that anything or anyone else existed. Rob wrapped his arms around me and I started the melt when my hand moved over his and I felt something odd. "Rob, where's your wedding ring?"

Immediately Rob stopped the cuddling and staggered back about 5 feet. Fear was in his eyes and he said, "I don't know." Rob's reaction was so sudden and so dramatic that I thought he was kidding. I was waiting for him to say, "Gotcha! I took it off earlier and it's on the bedstand," and we'd laugh about it. So I said, "Whatever." With the same fear in his eyes and with all the earnestness in his possession, he said, "No, I'm serious. I don't know where it is."

Rob NEVER takes his ring off. In our 8 years of marriage, he's probably taken it off less than 10 times. Me, I take mine off all the time to wash dishes or dig in the garden or whatever. Plus, I lost my wedding ring about 3 years into our marriage, and didn't have a real wedding ring for the next 4 years after that, just a few substitute rings that I bought for a few bucks apiece. So not wearing a ring is somewhat normal for me. Rob, though? Not normal. It's telling that I noticed his ring was gone by feel alone. His hand didn't FEEL right without that ring on.

Rob promptly started looking for his ring. All over the upstairs where he'd played with the boys. In and around our bed. Around the table where he'd been working earlier. Anywhere he could think of. "I just took the trash out. Maybe I should search through the trash bags." Note that he had taken all of the trash out to the curb, so him searching through the trash would require him to open all the bags and search. Nasty and gross. To me: SO not worth it.

And of course, this whole time I was somewhat nonchalant about it. I'm an anti-worrier. "You'll find it, babe," I would say, and, "It's probably somewhere in the house. Don't worry about it." I have to admit, too, that it occurred to me the whole time that Rob was frantically searching the house, that there was no love for Tamra tonight. Presently I was more disappointed about that than about the ring. Again, losing a ring just isn't a big deal to me. I didn't have a ring for 4 years.

But clearly it was a big deal to Rob. He thought of every place he'd gone. The next day we called Kroger. No one turned in a ring. We called the school, where Rob had gone with Miciah earlier in the evening. No one turned in a ring. We left our name and number at both places, but we aren't expecting a call. Rob mentioned something about the current price of gold and I had to admit with some sorrow that if someone HAD found the ring, they probably would have just pawned it. It's a gold and platinum band. Probably worth a few dollar signs in hard economic times.

You'll be happy to know that Rob calmed down that night and not only did Tamra get some love, but I also got to hear more from the German Mad Scientist, and I was dubbed Helga, his assistant who kills the Live Dead Chickens with a mallet, making those chickens (wait for it): Dead Live Dead Chickens. Priceless.

We haven't found the ring yet. I don't know if we will. The question is: How long do we wait to declare the ring lost and buy a new one? And if we buy a new one, there is some possible good news: For the first time in our marriage, we could have matching bands. Really, truly matching bands. So far, our bands have just been similar.

A ring is one of those things, though. We'll buy a new one and then find the ring 2 years from now, under the fridge. Cause that's how it goes with rings.