I came home from work. I ate toast (of course). I dug some shorts out of my dresser to ride in. I went and rode for fifty minutes. When I finished riding I went to the kitchen and ate some applesauce. Than I did some TKD. Than I ate some yogurt. Than I went down stairs and did some ab work and some weights. While I was down there I went through some clothes stored down there to bring up stairs. I needed some long sleeve shirts. I came upstairs and ate tuna (good source of protein you know).
Finally I got to sit down and look through some emails and read up on some news.
As I was typing I noticed my wedding ring was gone. Gone. Not I took it off and put it somewhere. Gone as in it fell off.
You would think I would notice this. But I did not. I traced my steps backwards. I found it. In the drawer where I had dug the shorts out.
The best part of this entire mini episode was I acted so mature. I didn’t cuss. I didn’t freak out. While I was looking I kept wondering what ring I could dig out to wear in it’s place. Yes I was bothered I had lost it. It is awesome. It’s black. But the ring its self is not the important thing. It is what it represents. While I looked I was thinking I want to wear “a” ring because of what it represents. The ring does not determine the quality of my marriage. The description of my marriage is not defined by the ring. I’m glad I found it. But I never really lost it.