So there I was at church on Sunday, sitting next to my wife in a pew, when I glanced at my hands and realized that my wedding ring was nowhere in sight.
I am one of those people who basically freaks out when something is lost. I'll turn my entire house upside down trying to find whatever it is -- unless of course I'm on vacation and then I wind up turning my hotel room or cruise ship stateroom upside down. It generally does not matter how valuable the thing is. I'll go search a restaurant, looking on the floor and walking around annoying diners; I'll walk back and forth in a parking lot for hours, peering under cars. And here I was with my wedding ring in the "vanished" category.
I immediately thought of Saturday evening's festivities at a local bar/restaurant/music club. A group of us had, er, a few drinks. Said restaurant isn't well lit, presumably on purpose, and it would have been easy to absent-mindedly set something small down and not notice it again when time came to leave. Why the ring might have been off my finger in the first place is another matter. It generally stays right where it belongs, but once in a great while, maybe once every few months, I find myself absent-mindedly fiddling with it, taking it off, trying it on my right ring finger, putting it back on my left ring finger. I don't know why I do this, but it seemed pretty likely that I had for some stupid alcohol-related reason done exactly that at the bar. Who knows if it would ever be seen again? It could have been swept or vacuumed up and disposed of.
I messaged an acquaintance who works there part-time and asked if he could have someone check. He said he would, when they opened later that day (it being Sunday, after all).  And then I got down to some serious fretting.
When we got home, I looked on my work-from-home work desk, on our home office desk, on the dining table, in the bathrooms, then moved on to the kinds of places cats like to bat things: behind doors, under furniture, in cracks between things. No luck. No freaking luck at all.
Carole was sympathetic but not much help. She had lost her wedding ring decades earlier while at work in Burlington. Her best theory was that it "slipped off" in a bathroom. We'd finally gotten her a replacement at a jewelers in Key West and she'd carefully put it away and essentially never worn it. She doesn't much like rings, bracelets, and other things that serve to distract her. It had been a point of pride for me that I'd never lost mine.
Eventually I gave up, staking everything on the ring's possible discovery at the bar, and got down to doing our usual Sunday afternoon chores. One of these chores is stripping the sheets and blankets off the king bed in the master bedroom and taking them down to the basement to wash. I took the heavy comforter down and started it washing by itself and went upstairs to get the rest. Often-times I kind of just yank the top sheet and the fitted sheet off in one continuous motion, but on Sunday I was a little more deliberate about it. I pulled the top sheet down, preparing to yank it off and go back for the fitted sheet, when suddenly I went "What the entire F___" as there, lying precisely where I'd been sleeping the night before, was said wedding ring.
If I'd yanked everything off all at once it'd probably have fallen out of the bedding and gotten truly lost under something on the way to the basement.  My guardian angel looking out for me, I guess.
So I'm glad to have my ring back, not lost forever after all... but I have a new concern: why the heck am I apparently taking my ring off while I'm sleeping?
