SunnyD
Belgian Waffler
As I'm walking out of the bathroom drying my hands, I attempt the usual procedure of wiggling my ring slightly so as to dry underneath it. Totally reaction-based, as I go through this procedure multiple times per day... wiggle and dry. Except something is different here today. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. There is no resistance on my finger.
Instinctively I look down at my hand. Oh, hello hand. You're dry now, good. Wait... then it clicks across the millions of neurons that generally don't do squat during a given day - "RED ALERT!!! RED ALERT!!! ALL HANDS, OR AT LEAST THIS ONE... RING OVERBOARD!!!"
A quick peek in the towel I just used... nothing. Check my pockets, I stick my hands in there sometimes (don't ask)... nothing. Then I think of all the places it may be by now. Perhaps the kitchen counter with luck, where I likely would have taken it off to make dough yesterday - logical I would think since I usually take my ring off to make dough. Perhaps outside somewhere? God I hope not, outside is a mighty large place. Oh dear... not the toilet. Please, anything but the toilet! The thought of flushing my marriage down the shitter just ain't right!
Where the hell did it go? It doesn't just ... disappear. God I hope it's on the kitchen counter at home. Either way, my wife is likely to get the best of me.
🙁
Instinctively I look down at my hand. Oh, hello hand. You're dry now, good. Wait... then it clicks across the millions of neurons that generally don't do squat during a given day - "RED ALERT!!! RED ALERT!!! ALL HANDS, OR AT LEAST THIS ONE... RING OVERBOARD!!!"
A quick peek in the towel I just used... nothing. Check my pockets, I stick my hands in there sometimes (don't ask)... nothing. Then I think of all the places it may be by now. Perhaps the kitchen counter with luck, where I likely would have taken it off to make dough yesterday - logical I would think since I usually take my ring off to make dough. Perhaps outside somewhere? God I hope not, outside is a mighty large place. Oh dear... not the toilet. Please, anything but the toilet! The thought of flushing my marriage down the shitter just ain't right!
Where the hell did it go? It doesn't just ... disappear. God I hope it's on the kitchen counter at home. Either way, my wife is likely to get the best of me.
🙁
