I was being productive and scrubbing the kitchen from top to bottom when I noticed I still had my engagement ring on. I sat it on the counter far away from the edge in a safe spot enclosed by my keys, a candle and a stack of mail. It was completely surrounded.
An hour later I convinced Michael to run to Target to scope out steam mops (he was thrilled). As we were heading out the door I went back to grab my ring-it wasn't there.
I said "Very funny! Where did you hide it?"
With the most serious look on his face he replied "I don't know what you are talking about."
The next 45 minutes are a blur. Trash cans were emptied and turned over, canisters were moved and moved again, the disposal was checked at least 9 times and every other crevice and hiding spot in the kitchen was examined.
That's when the tears came. We're talking big tears- the kind that fall after you see your dog get hit by a school bus. I started working myself into a panic and thankfully Michael calmed me down.
Our attention finally turned to the cat.
I was convinced he ate it. In my mind I was ready to pack him up and send him to the animal hospital for an x-ray.
Michael scanned the kitchen with a flashlight one last time.
There it was.
In the fringe of the rug. (Our sweet kitten's favorite resting spot)
Thank GOODNESS he didn't eat it.
I was SO happy. I sat in the middle of the floor covered in trash and cried and apologized and cried so more. I felt so bad and so good at the same time.
Whew! Crises averted.
At least the cat has good taste.