I have officially lost my favorite rings. I tried not getting too worried about the fact that I couldn't find them but after searching every purse, pant, and jacket pocket I have, it is time to admit the sad truth.
The rings weren't valuable -- I probably spent $40 on them total -- but they were sentimental faves. One was from Kathmandu and the other was from my most recent trip to Taxco, Mexico. It's the Kathmandu one that hurts the most. I loved that ring. Big and silver with pressed bead-like things.
The rings are the latest in a trend of losing things. I lost, um, a "special" chocolate bar sometime during Coachella weekend and can't find a red coral necklace that travelled with me last year. There are green glass earrings missing too, and a pair of khaki cords. I have no idea where these things went. I had all of these things except for the cords when I came back from Mexico last year.
Losing things depresses me too because it emphasizes my transitory nature. I live with my mom, sure, but I'm at my boyfriend's on the weekends and am constantly packing and unpacking, packing and unpacking. I pack work clothes if it's a school night; hiking shoes and clothes if it's a weekend; workout clothes if it's the day I work out. It's no wonder I lose things with all the packing and unpacking, packing and unpacking.
Grrrrrrr.
