Cathardic
My teeth keep tugging at my left lower lip, hoping to find the steele ring with which to gnash thoughts into. And then I scratch my nose and miss the gentle tug on my left nostril of the ring that once lived there through all of my colds, save for once, when the cold was so bad, I went through an entire box of tissue over the weekend.This also reminds me that my wedding band broke in January. Which is not all that surprising, since it had broken once before and I have been carrying around a leather(and heavy) briefcase. The band is made of 6 skinny bands that make a little knot at the front.
My amber fell out the ring that was brought from France.
My sapphire fell out of it's band.
The only rings left are the two in my ear. And the opal ring I keep in a velvet box for special occasions.
I feel naked.
I feel alone.
The rings that adorned my face, were removed on Friday before I started my shift. I secured (so I thought) them in a square alcohol wipe package, and I swear I put said package in one of three places. A) The pocket of my olive carharts. B) the little blue pouch in my bag reserved for other things I stick in me; or C) the big pocket of my bag.
I haven't seen them since. On the plus side my bag got a thorough cleaning Saturday night.
I feel that I have come to a crossroads; and need to decide to buy new rings, or hope the old ones miraculously appear. But sometimes things look more like things then things themselves (Granny Weatherwax)and I should just leave well enough alone.
I just hope my lip can hold out and my lungs don't collapse under the inreased stress of needing my oral fix.
posted by iSirkus @ 10:41 PM
Comments: 5
