So I haven't posted anything this week so far because basically I have had the plague. It started Monday night with a round of coughing and sneezing every hour until I crawled into work on Tuesday exhausted and running fever.
This Imp is sooooooooo dedicated to her job she went into work running fever and shivering with the chills (in actuality I was a. scared they would realize they don't need me and b. scared to fall too far behind for the catchup would be heck!) Plus The Mom's philosophy was if you aren't bleeding to death or dying you are going to school so this has been applied to work as well. And since I wasn't bleeding to death and don't consider being hot and cold at the same time dying....I went to work.
By the end of the day I was wishing I was dead. For two reasons:
1.) I was running high fever, my whole body ached, exhaustion would be an understatement, and my poor nose was about to run away.
2.) I lost my engagement ring!
Forget that my body was about to expire from the plague, I was about to expire because I lost "my precious"
Due to dehydration, my finger was smaller than normal so The Ring had been rolling around and around....and around...and around....which may not seem a big deal but when you are stuck in cubic hell running fever, experiencing chills, and working on crap you can't see well due to your blurry vision, it is very annoying! So I took The Ring off and stuck it loosely in the front pocket of my purse.
Now I will note right here that this Imp at that very moment thought "I should write a note to remind me the ring is there" and on normal (this word used loosely) mental days I would have done so because I have learned it is very good to go with my Impish instinct, but being a fever/chill dimmed day I dismissed said instinct and went back to the work I wasn't doing very well.
Day passes, I stumble from work at the whistle blowing hour and head to meet Sexy Fiance at a house we have been eyeing for our future abode. Upon arrival the thought slams through my foggy overheated head "The Ring" and I scramble for my purse only to be welcomed by an empty pocket.
Tears. Our poor Realtor.
Needless to say I did not go look at the house but drove in my fever daze back to work to search for the next two hours everywhere I would have been with my purse for "The Ring"
I went home and cried. I called myself stupid. I burned with fever. I called myself a retard. I shook with chills. I took drugs (legal ones) and prayed for unconsciousness.
The next morning I crawled out of bed, feeling achy, drugged and downhearted. I drudged off to work because even though I was wishing I was, I was not bleeding to death nor was I dying. I asked the guards, I asked the front desk, I even sent a building wide email about my ring. I felt the fever return, I shook with more chills and I cried when I told my coworker I had lost "my precious"
Then I went to the bathroom, threw up what seemed like my entire insides and almost passed out on the floor. Luckily my manager was in there and ordered me to go home. Yep I was dying, I could go home! She offered to drive me but I declined and got myself home. Straight to bed with Mr. Kitty glad to keep me company and the next 12 hours of fever and chills. The Brother sweetly brought me Sprite and crackers when I called him later that evening, though delivering them somewhat at a distance from the door but they helped greatly. My fever broke at 8pm last night and I was able to get normal sleep through the night.
Back to work I went this morning. I felt much better though weak. I took my sprite and crackers with me and took it easy as I began to haul butt figuratively to catch up for what two days of delirium had put me behind and tried not to think about "my precious"
I ended up working late to catch up and the usual cleaning guy began making his rounds. When he passed my desk the first time collecting the garbage I said my usual hello and thank you that I try to always say to him if I work late. As I sat there something told me to ask him about my ring and to ask him in Spanish. Spanish is his native tongue and I have always said both my hellos and thanks you in spanish to him. So I quickly used Free Translation . com and looked up the words lost ring since this is not common vocab in college spanish. I got up and met him at the door as he was about to leave and in broken spanish told him I had lost my ring on Tuesday. Before I could really ask him if he had seen it, he said " I find it" and reached down, pulling "my precious" out of a pouch on the side of his cart he always has with him.
I almost cried right then and there, instead I cried "gracias! muchas gracias!" three or four times.
I will admit that in this Finders Keepers world I had a jaded view that if someone found my ring it was highly unlikely that unless they knew me they would not give it back. This man though....this man who only knows me as the girl who says hello and thank you when she is there, who could have denied ever seeing my ring, he gave it back.
That makes my ring ten times more precious, what a story I will have to tell my children one day.