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Crime of the century

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I forgot my wedding ring at home today. I'm not sure how it happened, but I walked out of the house without it on my finger and didn't realize it until I was almost all the way to the office. Oh well. Whatever, right?




Fast forward an hour or so. This happens:


*desk phone rings* sfaJill's cell phone number is on the display.


"Hey, babe."


"Hi, honey. I've got a question for you."




"Are you feeling different today? Maybe more...single?"


"Yeah, I know. I forgot my ring."


"Uh huh."


"You saw it on the dresser, didn't you?"


"Uh huh..."


(sarcastically) "And you're calling to lecture me about it, aren't you?"


(seriously--definitely not sarcastic) "How did you forget it?? How did that happen?"


"I don't know. I guess I just forgot to put it on."


"But how? You have the same routine every morning! How did you not realize you forgot your ring?"




"Are you really this upset about me forgetting my ring?"


"No. But I just thought you would be more aware of it. It's your ring!"


"You sound upset."



And it went on for a couple more minutes. I neglected to bring up the number of times that's she either left her ring at home or we've had to pull back into the driveway because she suddenly realized she didn't have it. And nevermind that this is the first instance of me forgetting to put the goddamn ring on that either of us can remember.


Yet, somehow, it was the crime of the fucking century this morning. Bitches be trippin'.

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I've forgotten mine a time or two, but luckily I keep mine in it's original little box, and Smuesette never thinks to open the box and make sure I took it.

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