I’ve worn a ring on the thumb of my right hand since I was 10.
The habit started after my kid brother bought me a cheap ring at a garage sale and my thumb was the only digit big enough to keep it on.
Though I’ve cycled through a few different rings since then, my current configuration consists of one silver ring Pythagoras gave me when we moved to this town 13 years ago, and a second ring my brother gave me that’s still too big and must be worn with the other to keep it on.
There’s sentimental value attached to both, so you can imagine my frustration when I looked down Sunday morning to discover they’d vanished.
Well, vanished isn’t the right word. Flushed is more accurate, but I’m getting to that.
Pythagoras and I were visiting my parents, and we were all headed out for a hike. Since I’m not overly fond of squatting to pee in the woods, I dashed inside for one last potty break before we left.
I should note that the rings make a distinctive “clink” when they connect in a pocket or on a counter.
I vaguely recall hearing the “clink” as I zipped up, flushed, and turned to wash my hands. That’s when I realized the rings were gone. I fished in my pockets.
I checked the floor.
I peered into the toilet.
Gone. My rings were gone.
I knew exactly what had happened. Since the rings sometimes slip off when my hands are cold, I was certain they’d fallen into the toilet as I hurried to unbuckle and unzip.
And I also knew from an earlier experience losing a watch down the same toilet, that the odds of me retrieving flushed valuables were about the same as the odds of me growing a penis and enjoying the convenience of peeing upright.
I trudged out to the car with a heavy heart, trying not to think of the lost rings while we hiked (though I’ll admit they crossed my mind when I had to stop and tinkle in the woods after all).
I tried not to think of the rings at lunch when I missed their clink against my silverware.
I tried to pretend my thumb didn’t look naked every time I caught sight of it that afternoon, and even bought a cheap replacement just so I wouldn’t rub off my own knuckle feeling for the missing rings.
When we got ready to leave my parents’ house, I made a final trip to the little girls’ room.
That’s when I heard the “clink.”
I looked around. I peered under the sink, behind the toilet.
I frisked myself from head to toe.
I sat back down.
And that’s when I noticed.
If you’re familiar with women’s undergarments, you know that regardless of style or fabric, there is a patch of cotton stitched into the crotch area.
Prior to this moment, I had never paid attention to the aforementioned stitching. Had I paid attention, I might have noticed that the makers of said undergarments occasionally opt not to stitch all the way around the cotton.
On this particular pair, a two inch span at the top was left unstitched. You’ll have to use your imagination, as I prefer to limit the number of underwear photos I post on this blog, but picture it as a sort of crotch pocket. Got it?
Now guess where the rings were.
Don’t spend too much time guessing. Also, don’t spend too much time trying to figure out how I went 8 hours not noticing two rings hidden in the crotch of my underwear. I’m still mulling that one myself.
The important thing is, I have my rings back. I also have a nifty new pocket that should come in handy if I need an extra place to store valuables.
Have you ever lost something and then found it again? It doesn’t have to be in your underwear – it’s probably best if it’s not – but please share in the comments.
I’ll be busy trying to figure out how I can capitalize on this if I become a jewel thief.