I’ve been blogging long enough that I could probably just start posting links to old posts when I do something stupid.

The last time I lost my wedding ring it had slipped off when I was loading the washing machine.

Yesterday, when I went to put it on, it was nowhere to be found.  Yes, my wedding ring went missing on my anniversary.

I looked in all of the obvious places, but I couldn’t do too much pounding around and tearing of hair and throwing of clutter, because of the sick man trying to sleep.  You know, the man that BOUGHT the wedding ring…

He was actually pretty unconcerned when I told him it was missing, but then he was still hazy from whatever virus had knocked him out.

I had tried retracing my steps, but the only specific memory I had of my ring from Sunday was at church:  I remember it clicking on the piano keys, so I knew I had it then, but the rest of the day was a complete blank as far as the ring goes.

Fast forward to this morning, I’m giving Katie her treat and closing the gate (she stays in the basement when we leave the house) and suddenly I knew exactly where my ring was.

See:  it’s all the dog’s fault.

She needed a bath on Sunday, and Mark needed me to help as Katie does not particularly LIKE having a bath.  Well, shower, anyway.  We have a shower stall in the basement — and right before manning the showerhead, I took off my ring, set it on a shelf and thought “I’ll have to remember that I put that there.”

I’m pretty sure the moral of this story is that I should not be involved with giving the dog a shower anymore.