Should I make that a dos?

I went to the bus depot today to pick up my ring. I discovered that in the 24 hours since I had dropped my ring into the change collector on bus #5193, I had become known as the Ring Girl around the break room of the depot. I walked in and heard someone say "It's her! Ring Girl!" And then someone else said, "Really? Is that her?" And then "Oh yeah, it's her, alright." And then supervisor said, "I am glad you came back. You have no idea what we had to do to get your... rings... (dramatic pause dramatic pause, dramatic pause).... back."

"Rings?" I asked.

"Rings," he said.

I thought it best not to seek further clarification. The dispatcher brought me back to lost and found and everyone in the break room stared at me with bemused _________, as I, Ring Girl, waited for the dispatcher to unearth my.... rings.... from the safe.

The first one was my diamond band. Exactly as I had hoped.

The second one was my sapphire-diamond band. The one I thought was back home in my jewelry box.

"I am guessing this one is yours, too, right?"

I had a mild stroke-like sensation as I realized how BOTH* of these items had fallen into the change collector. It happened because I was wearing the diamond band that day - but last WEEK - as in on the same day I had been wearing this particular pair of climbing pants AND also been wearing the sapphire diamond band that I had later zipped into the pocket of the pants so I could climb - which is where I later put the change that I needed on that other day - namely, Tuesday, on my way to climb.

Are you getting this?

Here is what you just learned about me, in case it's not clear.

I wore the zip pocket climbing pants a week ago, zipped an expensive piece of jewelry into the pocket, and then tossed that pair of climbing pants on the floor and left them there for an entire week before reapplying them to my body, adding change to that pocket for the bus, boarding the bus and then UNKNOWINGLY throwing my sapphire-diamond ring to the change collector at the same time as by magical coincidence the diamond ring I was KNOWINGLY wearing slipped off my finger and into the collector.

I am either the unluckiest bitch who ever rode the bus or the luckiest. I just can't tell.

What I can tell you is that, in the words of the great Cormac McCarthy, there is no definition of a fool that I do not meet.

Thank you for reading.

* The first age-appropriate Christian male human being who knows from whence the title of this post comes will be permitted to meet me in real life and also marry me because one thing I found out in the last twenty four hours is that my dad is "sad" that I am not married and that he would "feel so much better" if I settled down. I do not wish for him to be sad or displeased. So who wants to marry me? Anybody? Hm?