The pearl fell out of my ring last night. This isn't a big shock as it's an old ring and jewelry does that sometimes, but unfortunately for me (and those around me), I have a bit of a complex about rings.
During the one of my depressive episodes, I lost a stone out of a ring Jay had given me. That was sort of a "final straw" for me--I was really freaked out by it for a couple of days.
Also, since I wore my Christmas ring on that hand (starting in 2005), it's been more than a little strange not to have anything on that finger. I was particularly annoyed last night when I realized that I'd left the Christmas ring in Youngstown.
Of course, this is an easy repair, and I'll have the ring back in a few days, but I was having trouble overcoming my sudden hand nudity.
So, I went to WalMart and picked out the lamest, fakest, cheapest plastic solitaire I could find to tide me over:
It doesn't look half bad in a blurry cell-phone photo!
