Canned Goods

Have you ever had one of those moments in your life where the little voice inside your head says, "Better not do that, or something could happen..." Sadly, I had one of those moments today, just before I lost my wedding ring.

It could be much worse--I lost the diamond band, not the engagement ring, thank God; but I'm so busted up about it I could spit. As I'm sure anyone could attest to theirs, my wedding band is beyond sentimental. Not only does it match the engagement ring, I also have a very special inscription on the inside.

The little voice spoke to me at the gym this morning as I placed the ring on the shelf in my locker so I could put on body lotion and not get it all gunked up. I put it in the front, though, so it wouldn't get lost in the pile of clothes behind it.


"Hey, don't leave that up there," it scolded.

I ignored the voice, of course, as I often do, and then for some strange reason, my mind wandered and I thought about the jeweler who made the ring. He lives close by and I often see him driving his big Lincoln Navigator around town. I always know it's him because the SUV is a baby barf brown and it has a big bike rack in the back. He's a nice guy, though. And then I wondered what it was that made me think about him and then I thought about the quality craftsmanship he and his brother do and I thought about how happy I was with all of the pieces they had made for us and then I thought about my husband and what a great guy he is and how kind and generous he is and how he needs a watch battery for his watch and how he never has any time to do anything like get a watch battery and how he needs some sort of a personal valet service and then I'm all, "wait, what about me? I mean I could get him a watch battery..." and then a woman who had shared my lap lane with me in the pool came over to the locker next to me and asked, "Is this your locker?" and I nodded and went back over to it to get out of her way and I hastily scooped the clothes that were laying on the top shelf and got dressed.

It wasn't until I headed back up the stairs to pick up Mr. Na in daycare when I realized my mistake. A tearful search ensued, which included several concerned women (the woman next to me had already left), Mr. Na, and the person at the front desk--all for naught--though on the plus side, a lot of the older ladies are saying prayers for me (smiling).

And now the little voice is doing it's "told ya so" number inside my head.

I had assurances from the gym staff and from the concerned ladies and from the police officer who took my report that in all likelihood it could turn up; but I'm not feeling terribly optimistic.