That meant I lost it at the gym. Oh shit.
I clled the gym Friday morning. Nobody turned it in. OH SHIT!
All day Friday, I'm edgy and nervous. I'm REALLY worried what Kat will say if I tell her I lost my ring. We have matching rings that we bought at a store that is no longer in business, so it is literally irreplacable. Furtive thoughts are racing through my head: maybe I can wear hers (she doesn't wear rings anymore), or maybe I can convince her that we should renew our vows and get ALL NEW wedding rings. I decided to go to the gym Saturday morning, on a desperate chance that it would turn up.
I made up "LOST" signs and posted them throughout the gym (even had someone put one in the ladies' room). I then proceeded to abuse my body in a three-hour workout, pennance for what I perceived as a colossal screw-up.
The story does have a happy ending. As I was leaving there for the day, the desk manager told me that somebody turned in a ring, and sure enough, it was mine. I jammed that sucker back on my finger, and there it will stay. On top of that, after all my sweat and hard work, I lost five pounds!