LOSING

What a loaded word. "Losing". It could mean so much. Today it means that I feel like a loser, because I am one, because I lost one of my special possessions last night, right here in the house, by accident and by not being careful. For my 8th birthday, my godmother took me out for a special day. We went shopping downtown at Hudson's, and bought something special in a number of departments. We bought a dress in the clothing department, at least one other thing in another department, then we went to the toy counter, and she bought me the one Mattel doll I didn't yet have, Allen, who was Barbie's friend Midge's boyfriend. I chose an Allen with red hair, because I always chose red haired Barbies. I already had Barbie with a red pony tail, red haired Midge, red haired Skipper, and red haired Scooter. My brother Bill had Ken (can't remember whether Ken had red hair-he's currently downstairs, so I'll check) and my brother Steve had red haired Ricky, friend to Skipper and Skooter. We chose a tuxedo for Allen, too, and might have bought an outfit for Barbie that day. Then we went to lunch, I just can't remember where, then we went to my Nono's office in the David Stott Building.
He had a special present for me, in his signature black jewelry box trimmed in gold. Inside the box is a little black satin ring box, and there sat the most beautiful simple pearl ring set in gold. It was a little too big for my finger, so we'd wrap tape around the bottom of it so that I could wear it on Sundays to church. Then when I got older, I grew into it, and it still fits me to this very day. Or at least until last night when I LOST IT. These past 20 years, I'd been wearing it with two other small gold rings, one from each of my grandmothers. Last night, before going out to dinner, I decided to wear the three gold rings rather than the copper ring I'd made in jewelry class last summer. When I got home, I came in here to check email, etc, and loosened the rings on my fingers. As I walked out the door of my office, two of the rings slipped off my finger. It was dark in the hallway, but I heard one hit the floor to my left, and the other ring pinged on the floor to my right. This was at the top of the open staircase which looks down into our foyer. I quickly checked to see three of five rings were still on my finger. I picked up the little ring that had fallen to my left, but the other one, which I now knew was my beloved pearl ring, wasn't there. I did a search up and down the stairs, ran my hands over every inch of carpet, looked in every corner and under every bit of wood trim (which is detached from the floors in most of the house. Took my contacts out and went through the search again, more thoroughly. Steve, who is great at finding small lost stuff, came and helped too. I searched again this morning by the light of day. Nothing. The memory of a really special day in my life will always be here, but for now the physical evidence is gone.
In the meantime, the reverse scroll operation on my wireless mouse is operable again. I have no idea why this function sometimes stops, but it's really annoying. I just want to put it out there that I'd rather have my ring than reverse scroll.
My search continues. It has to be here somewhere.