I can’t find my ring. My anxiety about it presses unignorably on my shoulders and stomach. I know for sure I had it on Friday afternoon because the checkout lady at Surfas admired it (she too had an absolutely stunning 1920s ring), but I can’t remember if I saw it after that. I didn’t wear it on Saturday morning at Pilates but during the rest of the day…??? By yesterday I was looking for it, and now I am at my wits’ end as to where it could be. Erik, Shra, and Devin dropped everything to help me look for it, and we all retraced each other’s steps in case anyone missed anything. We searched the car. Erik and Devin even picked through the two gigantic disgusting dumpsters behind our building to find our trash. This morning before we did anything else, without even discussing it, Erik and I rolled out of bed almost at the same time and turned the room upside down again, thinking we might have missed something last night. I’ve called Empanadas Place, where we went Friday evening after Surfas, but there’s no answer, so I will try again later. I highly doubt it’s there, but at this point we’ll try even the remotest possibility. Nothing, nothing, nothing. It’s as if someone sneaked into the apartment and stole only the ring, right out of its little compartment in my jewelry box where I always place it as soon as I get home. I don’t know what else I can do. I’m keeping myself occupied with busywork because when I don’t, I can’t think of anything else.
[This post was imported on 4/10/14 from my old blog at satsumabug.livejournal.com.]