Blog — Tedd Hawks

When Ernesto and I got married we got Tungsten rings because they looked cool and wouldn’t break the bank. At the time, they were too big, so we used materials to help resize them.

The thing is, during the winter, my fingers shrink up to the size of a delicate southern debutante’s. Seriously, it’s very odd. My friend and I got dinner a few weeks ago, and while eating, he looked at my hands and goes, “Wow, you must be losing some weight!” But I was packing an extra 10 Christmas pounds, so that definitely wasn’t the case...the weight was just all in my belly and not on my delicate digits.

Along with the finger-shriveling cold, I also happened to drop my ring a few weeks ago. The re-size epoxy busted out, so my ring has been very loose. There were a couple of moments when I was worried about it falling off, so I left it at home just in case I had a few drinks and it slipped both out of my mind and off my finger.

Then, one Saturday morning, we were sitting at home and Ernesto got out his ring re-sizers and was like, “Hey [Lady Fingers], why don’t you add one of these to your ring.”

I was like, “Yes! Thank you! I need to do that!”

But…like…I don’t know what happened in my brain. It’s all a bit hazy.

I slipped off my ring as if I was going to add the re-sizer, but I caught myself and thought, “Why are you doing this now?” So I put the ring back on and said to myself: “Your ring is barely hanging on, don’t mess with it right now…”

So I proceeded to throw a load of laundry in the wash and then went to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, I did my business then washed my hands…and…like…THE RING WAS GONE!

I panicked because I knew I’d just been messing with it…but I didn’t know at what point in the journey it had slipped off.

“Don’t panic,” I said. “It’s gotta be close.”

I did a quick survey around the living room and didn’t see anything, but, once again, I’d lost it in like a 10-foot square area, so I wasn’t super worried. We had plans to go on an architecture walk, so I grabbed my coat and headed out.

That next afternoon, I doubled down on the search, looking in the sofa cushions, in the washer, under the ottoman, and lifted up all the rugs.

I was hoping I wouldn’t have to let Ernesto know. It’s embarrassing that I lost my ring in the space where you couldn’t even park a 1970’s Buick.

There was also…the growing hysterical fear.

What if it rolled in a vent?

What if it was in the garbage?

What if I flushed it down the toilet?

I want to reiterate that none of this was plausible. I got up off the couch, put in laundry, and then went to pee. At no point did I even go close to garbage or hear it splash or roll into a vent.

BUT WHAT IF?

What followed was an overreaction that was pretty hysterical:

Ernesto and I pulled apart our sectional couch, dug into all the cushions, and looked under every possible piece of furniture. (My phone flashlight has never been so used.)
I dug through the washer, dryer, and then got out our tool set. (If y’all don’t know how incredibly unhandy I am, this was a major event.) I pulled off the plate below the washer and looked to see if somehow the ring had shrunk, slipped under it, then reformed. (Again, there wasn’t a lot of logic going on.)
Then, yes Reader, I proceeded to dig through all the garbage. Even though I hadn’t gone close to it, there was the outside chance that it could have somehow launched into the air, blipped through time and space, and ended up in the recycling bin.
With no success with these three options, I proceeded to the most drastic of measures: I Google’d sink maintenance and pulled apart our bathroom sink in case it had somehow (again, defying the laws of logic or physics) shot through the air and plummeted into the pipes.

NOTHING.

There was a sense of relief, though, because, at that point, I’d done all the “time-sensitive” investigations. (The trash needed to be taken out and if it was in the sink it could…wash away? Or something?) So at least I knew that if it was lost in some bizarre place in the house that it would have to turn up.

At that point, I fully believed that it would just magically roll back into our lives at some point. I also could imagine a world where I somehow slipped it off and put it on a weird end table and just forgotten about it.

Well, a week passed, and the ring was still nowhere to be found. I did another search of all the couch cushions, rugs, and table spaces with no luck. I knew it had to be SOMEWHERE, but I had no idea where it could be. I searched literally everywhere. The fact that I dismantled a sink was a testament to how dedicated I was to finding this thing.

By the end of week 2, I was wondering if I should go online and buy one of those really ugly silicone rings just so Ernesto didn’t think I’d purposely hid it and was trying to kickstart a swinger’s lifestyle.

BUT THEN!

I opened up the washer after doing a load and I heard a delightful clank echo in the basin. At that point, I knew!

I was like, “RING WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHY DID YOU FORSAKE ME?!”

And there it was. Somehow it had been like…in clothes? For 2 weeks?

It had definitely gone on a journey because all the epoxy was now burned out of it and it looked like it was brand new.

It was a huge relief to get back. I know the ring wasn’t full of diamonds or anything, but it had been such a huge part of my [lady] fingers’ existence for the past few years that I was feeling naked without it.

And, although, my plan to find it had been illogical, I was proud of the things I had accomplished to bring it back. I’d dug through trash. I learned about sinks. I used a screwdriver! That’s not even to mention that I learned how to take apart my couch (which can be done!).

In the end, maybe the ring vanished to teach me a lesson. It knew with my dainty fingers that I could do cool things like screwdriving and sink maintenance, I just had to find the strength inside myself.

Or maybe I was just preoccupied, and it slipped off while I was digging through the dirty gym shorts in my hamper?

We may never know. But you can bet that baby is going to be re-epoxied and jammed on. Even if we’re moving out of winter, lady-hands season into the summer of sausage fingers, this ring isn’t going anywhere.

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