I found my wedding ring.

It was under my laptop the whole time.

I have no idea how or why – I’ve looked there. It was the first place I looked, and the place I kept going back to check. When I take my bling off at the end of a long day of pimping, I put everything in a tray on my laptop. I swear I checked my desk a dozen times, moving my laptop and monitor and cables and the thousand other things that clutter my life. The ring wasn’t there. I moved all the furniture around my desk, spent hours on my hands and knees (shut up), used a Swiffer duster thing to poke into impossible spaces – no ring. This morning, I wasn’t even looking for it. After all, I thought it was gone forever and was planning to replace it. I was actually looking for a necklace that I wanted to wear today, and it wasn’t in the usual location by my typewriter. I wasn’t looking TOO hard; I didn’t even move the laptop – I just tilted my head and peered beneath it for a quick look (my laptop is propped up by four overturned tea lights because I am too lazy to buy a proper dock). I didn’t find the necklace – it was actually on the living room table – but I DID find my missing daisy hair clip, and .. wait, what’s that?

I didn’t have to pick it up before I knew what it was – the grooves on the bottom of the ring were unmistakable. It was my wedding band; the very one that has been missing for 3 months and that I had given up all hope of ever finding again.

What the hell.

Gremlins have been in my apartment. It’s the only explanation. I might have known – last night I found the cap to my water bottle that I’ve been missing for several months; it was under the bed. Something is playing tricks on me. I may have to zip tie all my belongings down so they stop walking away.

I’m completely stoked to have my ring back, and I may never take it off again. Once again, I am a highly respectable sophisticated married lady. I was really worried for those three months that someone might take me for a harlot, but everything is good again – I no longer fear illegitimacy! I am not a wanton slut!

*cough*

Hooray for ring finding! This has been the best Earth Day EVER!

Okay, internet – I need some suggestions.

It’s been over three months since I lost my wedding ring, and I’m beginning to feel that it will never surface again. The house has been cleaned top to bottom numerous times and I haven’t found it – normally when I misplace things, they’re found again relatively quickly because I’m really anal retentive about it. When frantic house cleaning didn’t turn up my ring, I decided to play it cool and just go about my regular business in the hopes that it would show up. No luck, and now I have no wedding band.

Sadly, I think it’s time to replace it. Since I have to get a new ring anyway, I’m thinking about getting something different. As much as I loved my original ring, I don’t want the same kind in case it shows up one day – so I’ll use this opportunity to look at different ring styles.

This is where you guys come in. I need some suggestions or recommendations of where to look – local would be nice, but I don’t mind buying online if I find something perfect. I’m looking for interesting, affordable, and something that suits my (depressing, racist) lifestyle perfectly. Any ideas?

I probably don’t need to put this disclaimer out there, but I am nothing if not paranoid: I am not racist, and I sincerely hope I am not depressing. I’ve been called both this week, and I am not so un-self-centered that it threw me for a loop (the first obviously more than the second). True to form, both things have become a running joke between me and Josh – he will say something innocent, I will accuse him of racism, and he will tell me my blog is depressing. It is all good. But I’m not racist, okay? Using adjectives is not racist. Describing an environment is not racist. Hot Topic is not punk rock. I don’t think I’ve had a truly racist thought in my entire life, let alone on the internet for everyone to see. I just don’t have time to hate.

Except for Aquaman.

Fish men are fucking dicks.

Today is Friday, so I will leave you with a hilarious cake. I am not a Twilight fan, but this made me laugh very, very hard:

this is might be even better than outing optimus prime

Ed came to bed last night looking all sad and cold. I distractedly asked him what was wrong – I had a wagon full of people I was trying to get to Oregon and didn’t have time to deal with his problems (I am a terrible wife).

“Everything is dead”, he moaned.

I was startled out of my squirrel hunting and looked up at him.

“What was that?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly – maybe he said that everything was cold (which it was, because our building heat is off).

“Dead! They’re all DEAD!”

Confusion. What was he talking about? Who died? And most importantly, who was this thoroughly morose motherfucker shivering beside me?

“My phone and my DS are DEAD! All my batteries died!”

Aww, bucket! I had a creamy frozen swirl of annoyance and sympathy. I am absolutely unable to understand the concept of a dead cell phone battery, even though I own an iPhone of the 2-hour shelf life variety – I am *always* charging my phone when I am not out fighting crime, so knowing that Ed is at home all damn day and not keeping his phone plugged in at all times is just insubordinate insanity to me.

The other issue – a dead DS battery – I felt much more keenly. We’re down to one DS charger, and my habitual battery abuse is in effect here too – when I’m not using my DS, it’s charging. Ed’s been more or less unable to get a jolt in edgewise, so he’s been running on Nintendo fumes for the last week or so. He got the red battery warning light last night while in the middle of collecting space contraband, and he had to stop playing Puzzle Quest to go give his DS some juice.

Logically, we should just suck up the $15 and buy another adapter. I don’t want to, though – the new Nintendo DSi is coming out in 3 short weeks, and I want one. It’ll come with its own adapter, so Ed can inherit the one I’m currently hogging. See, it all makes sense – why should I spend $15 on another DS charger when in two weeks I’ll get to spend $200 on a shiny new toy I absolutely don’t need? Duh. I have this all worked out, and in my head everything is just super.

I wasn’t going to say anything until the offer letter is in his sticky hands, but since Ed spilled the beans on Facebook last night I shall do the same: he got a job. We don’t know all the details yet, but so far it’s the best possible scenario: same industry, same clients, same co-workers, same part of downtown, additional money. Things are falling into place like the world’s most perfect Tetris run, and I couldn’t be happier for him. Hooray for Ed! You are highly employable and apparently in demand! We will not have to live on ramen and government cheese just yet!

Today is a good day to dance!

If I was gorgeous and he were taller and a sad gravelly song about love was being crooned in the background, our public fight on Granville at Robson could have been right out of a movie.

As it is, he is of average height and I am merely plain and our only soundtrack was the noise of a busy city failing to come to a halt at our emotions.

Whether this story has a Hollywood ending, though, remains to be seen.

I hate this shit.

I do not sleep well with others.

Due to simultaneous cases of rampant discomfort, cranky sleeps and clogged-up snottiness, Ed and I have been sleeping in separate rooms: he in the spare room, and I in the cozy hole we usually sleep in. Ed has trouble getting to sleep if there’s any noise whatsoever, and between my snoring and the cats going insane in the middle of the night, he hasn’t been getting much sleep lately. To combat this, he’s been going into sensory deprivation mode by holing up in the spare room with the door closed and ear plugs in while I get the big bed to myself.

Yes, it kind of sucks – but to look at it another way, it is fucking awesome.

Last night I was feeling petulant, so he slept in the main bed with me. While he managed to get to sleep alright, I had a horrible go of it – I tossed and turned for hours and received many elbows to the face. Every time I tried to stretch out and get comfortable, there was a limb in the way. I hated it. A lot. And I’m starting to worry that I’m going to be forever unable to sleep with another person close by, effectively cutting a large part of married life out of our daily routine.

It’s all the rage in the upper middle class for husbands and wives to have separate bedrooms, but that’s just not practical. Not only do we not have the space for it, I’m afraid I’m not up to speed on my yoga pants, tiny purse dogs and oversized SUVs. And yet .. I can’t help but think this might be the way to go.

Would it really be so bad if we had separate rooms? Yes, allowances would have to be made for when we have guests, but it might work. In my head I’ve already started to rearrange furniture and make up a list of things I’d want in my very own room. Truth be told, I long for my own space. My corner of the living room just isn’t as private as I sometimes need, and damnit, I just sleep so much better by myself. I can stretch! I can sleep diagonally! All four cats could sleep with me and I wouldn’t end up on the floor! I wouldn’t have to limit myself to 4 pillows – I could have eight! It would be fantastic! We could have giggly date nights complete with sleep overs! There’d be a whole new dimension to our relationship that would be in no way weird!

I haven’t talked to Ed about this (although by making this post, I suppose it’s now out in the open – hey Ed, how do you feel about separate bedrooms?), but I doubt he’d go for it. Even if you ignore the emotional response, the whole damn thing is a logistical nightmare. Also, who would get which room? Naturally I’d want the main room because it has the better bed, all my stuff, and the TV – but the smaller room is cozy and has better air circulation and would be quite cute if laid out just right. It’s all just wishful thinking, really. I don’t want a roommate, I rather like having a husband. I’m sure we can work something out, like trading the queen bed in for two twin beds.

Actually, that would be so much worse. It’s bad enough having someone snoring in your ear; if they were snoring but too far away to kick? I believe I would go insane with rage.

The sudden change from summer to winter appears to be affecting people negatively – everyone is weird and sad and stressed out, myself included. I don’t like it. Everyone be cool, okay?

Ed is home! He arrived home last night surprisingly early; around 6pm. I was happy to see him, as were the cats. Hooray for safe homecomings!

I was promptly spoiled with belated anniversary goodness. Ed went the traditional route, giving me a super cute opal and silver necklace from my favourite Edmonton-only jewellery store, some perfume that I had been coveting, and every girl’s dream: a massive sparkly Autobot patch the size of my head. It is huge and hilarious and will be applied to the back of my scooter jacket. Yay for presents! I too attempted to go traditional with the gift giving, although in a more literal sense: the old school gifts for a 6th anniversary are iron and candy, and the modern equivalent is wood. To this end, I found a gaudy yet hilarious wooden music box at the retro flea market with Happy Anniversary embossed on the top under an inch of lacquer, which I filled with candy. Iron came in the form of an Iron Man Pez dispenser, and to top the whole thing off, I bought him some naked women in a Suicide Girls photo book. Nothing says love like giving your husband anniversary porn.

I suppose it is officially time to stop living in the summer and face fall. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – fall is my favourite time of the year – but this morning there was some definite sadness as I reluctantly put on socks. Tonight will drive home the changing seasons even more, as Ed and I attend the first hockey game of the year. Soon I’ll have to start wearing pants again, and before long Oscar will need to be put away for the winter. That is all very depressing, so I will just kind of ignore it for now and instead concentrate on how pretty it is outside.

I am disappointed that the Wiki article for Fatal Hilarity is not about hilarious deaths but instead people who died from laughter.

I think I’m buying Shan’s old desk this week, and I’m beyond excited to rearrange my computer setup. My only concern is that I’m losing my shelves, which means I will have to find a new home for my many, many toys. I think I’m going to perhaps buy some shelving units for the wall where my desk used to be, because all my toys are small and irresistible and would promptly be eaten/destroyed by cats of all sizes. Plus, the Changing of the Desk will allow me space to set up my retro-tastic typewriter for old timey writing. It is super. Pictures will follow!

In the meantime however, please enjoy this impossibly cute picture Ed managed to take last night: