Does anybody else ever get the impression that they might be too stupid to act as a functioning member of society?
I went to go out this morning and couldn’t find my wedding ring. There are only really two places I leave it when I take it off, and it wasn’t in either.
It wasn’t on the floor near those places. It wasn’t in the less-frequent places I leave the ring, or around them. It wasn’t on any surface near where I could imagine having taken the ring off. It wasn’t in or under the couch. It wasn’t in the pockets of the clothes I was wearing yesterday.
It wasn’t in the full bag of garbage that had been sitting for a few moments near the front door, where I usually put the ring. [Anybody ever carefully search a bag of garbage? Week-old chinese takeout containers, half-eaten fruit, old kleenex. Unidentifiable moisture. It took some intestinal fortitude.]
I decided to re-check the clothes I was wearing—maybe there were some pockets I missed. There was the ring, sitting under the shorts I was wearing. It was on top of the pair of shorts below, dead-centre, as if carefully placed there for safe keeping.
This is a pretty serious mystery to me. I replayed the day as I was searching, trying to figure out where I might have left it. I almost never put my ring in my pockets. I’m always paranoid about it when I do, so I would remember if it had been in my pocket during the day. How else does a ring get in with one’s clothes?
Underpants gnomes? Maybe they could only find my shorts, not the underwear, so they got pissed and hid my ring?
Or, like, it might have been a mouse or… something?
September 10th, 2006 at 2:53 pm
Anybody ever carefully search a bag of garbage? Week-old chinese takeout containers, half-eaten fruit, old kleenex. Unidentifiable moisture. It took some intestinal fortitude.
This reminds me of the time my roommate lost her TD Visa bill, which was the only piece of mail at the time that had her address on it, which she needed for some sort of application. Digging through the garbage to find it was not my fondest of memories. Extreme workout for my gag reflex.