Part 2: I am a sad lady
I’ll be honest, I almost gave it up before I started.
I knew what was coming. I knew it.
A +B = C.
Tiffany ring + trash truck = that’s right. You know where.
I went to Tiffany.com to figure out how much it would cost to replace my ring. I breifly considered never telling anyone what I had done, and just replacing the ring and forgetting about it.
I also considered limping around the house and waiting for someone else to offer to replace it for me.
I even started developing the start of a terrifying story wherein I get robbed on the street, held up at gunpoint and forced to fork over my precious heirlooms and sorority girl jewelry, but that seemed more likely to open up a great big can of Hilary Please Move Home Now, and even Tiffany is not worth starting that conversation.
I don’t know if I’m too stubborn, too cheap, too bad a liar, too Lutheran (which is a combination of being stubborn, cheap and a bad liar) or something else – what’s the feeling? Ah yes! Too guilty. But I couldn’t do it. I had to try to get my ring back. And if it were not to be found, I would have to apologize to my parents and go Tiffanyless for the rest of my days. I clearly cannot be trusted with nice things.
And I clearly knew where I was going to have to go if I wanted to get my ring back.