Vacant Ring

I forgot to put on my wedding ring today.

Such an oversight is completely unlike me. Typically, my morning routine is a rote, cheerless exercise completed with robotic precision within 4 minutes of awakening (20 seconds spent brushing teeth and styling hair, 3 minutes, 39 seconds spent cursing man’s fate to till the earth, 1 second spent putting my wedding ring on).

I don’t know exactly how this happened. Perhaps you have seen my wedding ring? It is pure gold, encrusted with jewels, weighs 19 pounds, and was originally fashioned as an anal scraper for a 16th century Sultain of Brunei. So basically, if you see anything resembling that description, give it to me.

I should also note that it’s a wierd feeling to not be wearing my ring today. My right ring finger feels all fleshy and exposed, like the supple underbelly of a fattened, socially awkward goat. What will protect the bones of my hand when the industrial vicegrips are applied to my right hand? Nothing, that’s what. I might as well chew off my own fingers and save my department supervisor the pleasure.

Oh. Wait a minute. I found my ring. Nevermind all this. Sorry to bother you.

Turns out it was in my mouth the whole time.