Keep Two in the Safe

Dr. Blakey came to visit us 2 weeks ago and in typical fashion, Jon and I were up with the garbage men on Saturday. The doctor is a night owl and had informed us that his Thursday night ended with a bedtime of 5:00 AM, and much of Friday was spent in an airport and on a plane.

Needless to say, he sleeps in.

Jon takes his CFA book (Certified Financial Analyst - a torturous exam for the investment world) outside to study on the deck in the beautiful sunshine and I follow with a house magazine. Houston trolls the yard consuming chunks of grass with the continued hope that one day it will fill her belly. All is lovely.

A brief preface: Jon has a hilarious habit of taking off his wedding band (often while we are out to a "romantic" meal), slamming it on the table in front of me, and staring at me, waiting for my reaction. He finds this incredibly amusing and performs this trick, oh, 4-5 times weekly.

So. We are sitting peacefully with our cups of coffee in the warm morning sun when a bang! breaks my concentration. I look up to see Jon's horrified and guilty face as the wedding band bounces off the plastic folding table between us and onto the slatted wooden deck. Jon and I watch the ring roll in slow motion - no, no one moves - moving precariously close to the gap. And then . . . the ring swan dives directly into the pitch black hole between two boards.

WHAT.

Jon leaps down and starts shoving his finger between the boards, hoping to snare the ring. No luck. He peers from all angles to determine if he can even see the ring. Nope.

Jon: "I don't think I can get that ring. It's not close enough to the edge of the deck. Guess I'll need a replacement."

Moi: "ARE YOU INSANE?! That is the ring you were married in! Get the saw because the deck is going and the ring will be found."

I deliver this from my seat because I am unsure what will occur if I stand up. I may punch a hole through the deck with my bare fist to recover this ring.

Jon looks at me, terrified by his wife, the she-beast, and runs off the deck, around to the back of the yard, and lays down in the dirt to determine if vision is any better from the ground. Pitch black. No again.

Jon: "I really won't be able to get this. It's lost."

I get up, enter the house and return with a soup ladle which I very delicately pitch over the railing into the grass.

Moi: "I suggest you scoop it out."

Which he does, with the assistance of a highlighter (don't ask) and flashlight. LUCKY FOR HIM AND THE UNIVERSE. I look at the clock inside. 8:09 AM. Just super!

Upon relaying this story to The Doctor later that day he offers, "That's why you should always have three rings. Keep two in the safe and the wife never has to know."

Interesting strategy.