january 10, 2001. I'm here to tell the world: be careful what you wish for. I spent the last few entries mumbling about calm, problem-free days and a lack of subjects to write about. Yesterday afternoon I was talking to Poly about engagement rings when I realized that my wedding band was missing. It took a good fifteen minutes for that to sink in, then it started to loop in my head. holy shit, my wedding ring is gone!!!!!!! Imagine an endless interior moan that makes it hard not to cry when you tell people about it...and you have the last 24 hours. I've had 3 new classes to date; ask me a question about any of them. You think it's hard to concentrate when you're an undergraduate? Brother, try losing your wedding band after less than 6 months of marriage. I couldn't make myself care about a single other thing. I searched the house in frantic spurts of five minutes each, stopping when I began to hyperventilate. When I had to be in the university buildings, I became obsessed with the idea that if I just moved one more bag from the wall, I'll find it. Hidden corners compelled me. This morning I started going through my garbage. And of course, my small-talk skills went all to shit. They weren't that good to begin with, you know. I can dress my personality in fancy rationalizations, say shit like I'm just unconcerned with the hypocrisy of shallow social interaction. It's not true. I just never learned the skill of polite conversation. When people ask me how I am, I tell them exactly what's in my head at the moment. I think I routinely scare the hell out of people this way - nobody bargains on such a lunatic response to simple courtesy. Anyhoo, this is the start of the semester and I've been seeing quite a few people for the first time in 2 months. We'll pass in the hall, they'll ask me how I am, and the best thing that comes out of my mouth is a moan. Often I'll say the only thing on my mind: "oh, I lost my wedding ring." Well, that's 'how I am,' in the strictest sense. I've seen a lot of eyes glaze over lately. I've been avoiding the word processor during this period, driven by the supremely superstitious fear that if I commit the loss to print, it's a real situation and God can't take it back. I almost didn't tell the Boy, much for the same reason. I did, of course. (He said, "Don't worry, we're still married." "I know that sweetie," I replied. "I hardly expected you to fling up your hands and run away laughing." "Wheee!" he said, testing it out. "Nope. Still married." "Good," I said.) I haven't lost that paranoid superstition, by the way. You're hearing about this because I found the ring 2 hours ago. I was typing away on my laptop, formatting some documents for creative arts class when I had a power warning. As I was walking toward my backpack, I realized that I hadn't checked the pocket where I keep my cords. Since I don't keep anything else there, I don't think about the pocket much. And of course, that's where the ring was hiding. I screamed. I couldn't help it. For a second I wondered if my intense longing had driven me round the bend: was I hallucinating? Then I bit my tongue, just to see if I was dreaming. Nope. No hallucination, no waking dream. I have my wedding ring back, snug up behind my smaller engagement ring. It's not going anywhere, baby.