It started off like any other morning: I woke up late, was far too rushed, hated life...the usual.
I don't sleep with my rings on. Sometimes when it's hot, my fingers swell. Yeah, it sucks. So this morning when I woke up and couldn't get my rings on (SO annoying), I figured I'd do what I usually do when that happens: stick them in my pocket and put them on once my fingers un-swell. Only I didn't stick them right in my pocket because I was afraid they would fall out on the way to the car (oh, hello irony). So as I'm getting ready to go out the door, I'm juggling the rings, my phone and my cigarettes in one hand, my keys in the other, and trying to grab my purse. Of course I would drop something. Yep, dropped the engagement ring. But it was right there, in the house, and I picked it back up and continued on.
Around the time I was getting to the train station, I realized my engagement ring was NOT IN THE CAR. Anywhere. I knew I had picked it up before I left the house, so I emptied my purse, tore the car apart...nothing. At that point I had to run for the stupid train, so I called Josh (crying of course) and begged him to look everywhere for it, including the path I had taken from the apartment to the car, and the parking space and surrounding area. Because he's wonderful, he did all of that for me, but still didn't find it. And then I pick a fight, because I'm miserable and hating myself at the moment for losing the ring. He said things like "I'm not mad at you" (honestly it never even crossed my mind that he would be) and "I'm not going to be stupid and tell you it's just a ring, but I can buy you a new one." My responses were mostly things like "That's not the POINT!" and "I don't want a new one! It's not the same!" and "It's not about just the ring, it's about what it represents!" Yeah, I was fun. Josh is a trooper.
So of course I stress myself out about it. All. Day. Long. I ask Josh to check outside again. He tells me it's raining. To which my irrational brain told my mouth to reply "It's raining?? It could get washed away! Or buried in mud!" His response? "Calm down, it's only drizzling. It's probably not out there anyway, I bet it's in your car." Wrong, smartass.
I called and cried about it to my sister and my mom. I was probably pretty annoying. Public apology right here ladies.
Got back to my car at the end of the day and tore it apart again. No ring. I texted Josh (because I always text him once I'm in the car at night, it's just a thing we do) "in the car. no ring." He texted back he was sorry. I cried all the way home, kicked myself some more for losing the ring, and smoked a bunch. Then when I pulled into the parking lot, I thought to myself, you know, let me check the path and the parking lot one more time before I go inside and rip the house apart, maybe Josh wasn't sure where I parked last night. Grabbed my flashlight and searched long enough to get even more discouraged than I already was. I looked under the car which was currently occupying my space (thanks, asshole), the cars on either side of it, the path, and the parking lot. On my second pass through the parking lot I found the fucking ring. It was laying in the middle of the goddamn parking lot. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GODDAMN PARKING LOT. How the fuck did I not realize I'd dropped it on the way to the car? Ugh, whatever.
Luckily the ring survived. It was obvious it had gotten run over (probably by me, because that's my life), but all of the stones were there. It's just bent to shit. Josh is taking it to the jeweler tomorrow to get it fixed for me. He stayed calm throughout the entire ordeal, balancing out the crazy that is me. And that's what the ring represents, and why I couldn't possibly replace it.