Remember my stolen ring?
How I was ranting and rolling about it?
I bet you didn't know that after I'd gone back to the coffee shop--and it was confirmed that it wasn't there--I exited the shop and stared into space with a lost expression on my face before I wandered up to the store where I'd bought the ring in the first place; I was hoping an exact replica might exist.
One did not.
Instead I looked at some other rings that were sort of like my lost ring, but not exactly. The proprietor of the store asked when I'd lost ring:
"Oh," I sighed, "about an hour ago. Maybe it's weird that I'm in here trying to replace it so soon. This must be like when a dog dies and the person can't handle the loss so they rush out to buy a puppy."
Then the proprietor looked at me with a wrinkle in his brow before gently saying, "Um, I actually don't think it's like that at all. I'm sorry, but I don't."
"Yeah," I wistfully agreed, "you're probably right." Then I trailed out of the store lost in misery, still completely oblivious to what a dumb f-cking analogy that had been. I mean seriously: a stolen ring compared to the death of a beloved family pet?
Nice one, Caitie. You are such a wordsmith.
Then I got a couple of steps away from the store and anger seized my shoulders and shook me until my teeth rattled. SOMEONE STOLE MY RING. So I raced back to my parents' house, fired up my laptop, and let loose a very cathartic stream of conscious typing in which I liberally pulled the tab on the f-bomb and let it fly with abandon into my blog post.
I bet you didn't know that some members of my family *coughdadcough* were very disappointed with my inarticulate use of that four letter word.
I also bet you didn't know that two days after the ring was lost, I went back to the coffee shop hoping someone might have turned it in and it could be on my finger before I returned to Switzerland on Monday.
So I considered it lost to the universe.
Then yesterday I opened up an email my friend had sent me titled "YOUR RING!!!" It has been found! In fact, to be accurate, it was at the coffee shop this entire time. Can you believe it? What had happened is someone turned my ring in, and the employee who accepted it stuck it in an envelope, put it in a drawer, and in the rush of the day-to-day never told her co-workers that it had been turned in. So when I immediately went back to the shop, they didn't know it was there. Then when I went back two days later, the staff still didn't know it was there.
And sometime last week, a drawer must have been opened, the ring remembered, and a sign went up in their window advertising it was found (whatever, I never left my contact details. I was traumatized, okay? And clearly, per my dead dog vs. lost ring analogy, also loosing a grip on reality). And thus we stumble across the beauty of small communities: my friend was walking by the window, saw the sign, went in and identified the ring, and Mom picked it up for me yesterday.
I still stand by my f-bomb blog post though, as everyone knows the bigger the scene you make decrying one thing, it's guaranteed that Murphy's Law will want to prove you wrong. Thank-you Murphy's Law for always being such a reliable pain in the derriere.
And thanks to you too, Universe and good Samaritan.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for proving me wrong.