Ring ring…

***Disclaimer. Despite what you are about to read, I can actually be trusted with expensive pieces of jewellery. Please don’t confiscate my shiny ring…***

FUCK! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was like that scene from Four Weddings and a Funeral, only slightly less British. Only it wasn’t a movie, this was me at 7.15am this morning as I tore the house apart looking for my engagement ring.

Utterly convinced that it was gone for good, I rang my mother in a fit of despair. I woud have rung Reece, only it was 5.15am in Manila and something told me that he wouldn’t have been all that happy with that wake up call.

So the situation was this…

I arrived home on Sunday afternoon and timed it perfectly with the brief but intense hail storm in the afternoon. I was going to wait it out in the car, however I realised that every single window and door in my house was open and I panicked and dashed across the street to close them.

The issue is that my ring is perfectly sized in Manila, when my fingers swell with the heat, however in Australia, when I am soaking wet, the ring is loose, like very loose, like could fall off my finger loose.

At this stage, with the last time I saw the ring flashing through my mind I was convinced that it was gone for good.

Cue breakdown on the phone with my mother. (She said to me tonight that she wishes she was there so she could have slapped me to snap me out of it.) “Go outside and check the garden,” she said. “I’m not wearing any clothes,” I sob. (I had only just gotten out of bed!)

So after much posturing I finally managed to get dressed and comb the front garden and sidewalk on my hands and knees. Still no ring.

By this time I was inconsolable.

I came inside to call my boss to tell her that I was going to be late and something flashing in the corner of my living room caught my eye.

It was my ring! It would seem that when I was shedding my soaking we clothes the day before it had gotten caught and flicked off.

Moral of the story…I probably can’t be trusted with shiny, expensive things, and the second I get back from Manila I’m getting the little fucker resized.

Sorry Reece.

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