St. Dickeybird, AKA Gollum

Last night I went back to the old apartment to give it a quick cleaning before handing it over to the superintendent.
As soon as I arrived, I changed into my grubby clothes and grabbed the broom. I had left the windows open, and balls of fur, dust, and litter swirled around. As soon as I touched the broom, the fire alarm sounded. I picked up my coat and bag, and walked down 19 flights of stairs. When I got to the ground floor, I was told that it was a false alarm. I headed back up in the elevator (I thought those were automatically shut off during an alarm, apparently not) and started cleaning.

Allow me to go on a tangent for a moment… Late 2010, after only a few months of marriage, Wife and I had been discussing people losing their wedding rings. Apparently it happens. I said that this ‘accident’ would be tremendously insulting. A wedding ring is sacred, and shouldn’t be LOST. I would be furious if that happened. So of course a couple of days later Wife lost her wedding ring at work. It probably slipped off when she soaped her hands, or possibly slipped into the dirty dishwater at the bar she works in. You can imagine that she was terrified when she phoned, in tears, to tell me that her ring was gone, had somehow disappeared that afternoon, and that everyone in the bar was searching for it.
The ring was never found, Wife was really upset, and after a few weeks of searching we bought her a replacement.

As I swept the bedroom floor last night, I slipped the broom under the heater. Out popped three hairy, dusty, balled-up socks that had been inadvertently pushed under the heater. Also, a shiny piece of metal bounced along the hardwood floor. I picked it up, admired the white-gold band, and confirmed that it matched the one on my finger. It also fit perfectly on my pinky finger, which is where I held Wife’s ring when the wedding photographer took pics of it. She had somehow lost it at home, and THOUGHT she’d worn it to work that morning long ago…
After cleaning, I stopped by her work for dinner. I walked in, ordered a pint, sat down, and asked her to take off her wedding ring. She looked at me confused, but complied. I snatched it back, and dropped the found ring on her finger. She looked confused, thinking I’d put my ring on her finger. Then she realized that there were three rings between us. She was happy. I was happy. We are NOT keeping the replacement ring “just in case.” If she loses this one again, there will be trouble. The replacement came from my mother-in-law, so I think we’re going to give it back to her. I don’t want a backup ring, that’s just not okay.

So cleaning up before leaving paid off nicely. And the two pints of Mill St lager at dinner were quite tasty too…