She either wanted to ruin my marriage or just get rich and run off to Rio. Not sure exactly which.
There she is. The slug who stole my wedding ring. I was picking peas, you see, innocent as could be. My wedding ring was on the pinky finger of my right hand to serve as a reminder that I had to write a check to pay off my credit card that night, or it would be dooooooom. This is an excellent reminder system. I’ve been using it for three years to great effect. My wedding ring fits on my pinky finger (though not as well as my ring finger), but it isn’t comfortable there, so every time I think about putting it back where it belongs, I remember whatever it is I’m supposed to be remembering.
So la la la, Dustin is mowing the jungle grass and I’m picking my peas. There’s a plump one! I reach out and grab it and the pea goes SQUISH!
I go “Eeeeeeeeek!” and fling my hands in the air. I feel my wedding ring as it flies off my chilly finger. I freeze. I turn around and look behind me (the direction in which the ring flew). There is the thickest, jungliest part of my back yard. It’s hard to mow around the pea plants, you see, so some of the grass is nearly a foot tall. Lush, thick green grass that has just swallowed my wedding ring.
But I felt it fly off, so I knew right about where it must have gone. When a quick survey revealed nothing, I called Dustin over and asked for his assistance. He thoughtfully refrained from saying anything to make me feel bad. Good husband! But no ring. The sun was setting alarmingly fast. I got out a pair of scissors and begin hand-trimming the lawn, figuring the ring just sunk down under the canopy (seriously, my grass has a canopy) and while mower-trimming was a bad idea, a little free-style clipping would be very helpful.
But then it got too dark to see. I gave up for the evening, but not in despair. My ring was lost, yes, but within a confined space, surrounded by a six-foot fence. The only things that might wander by and swipe it included the original fiendish slug and my cat. I figured neither would really be all that motivated. Besides – I have friends with metal detectors.
The next day, I bummed a metal detector from Jerry the Head Senior Supervisory Archaeologist. Of course, it was a metal detector he picked up for $15 at a garage sale, and he had never gotten it to work because he couldn’t get the battery panel open to install new batteries…
At home, Dustin deconstructed the metal detector (literally. The battery panel just refused to come off) and we got some batteries installed. The little needle jumped into action… sort of. It hung at the “1” mark and thereafter refused to budge. We metal detected Dustin’s ring, some pop cans, and my kitchen pots. The metal detector didn’t make a peep. Curious about whether I had the settings wrong, I tried googling the thing. Turns out it was manufactured some time around 1963. There were no instructions on how to use it, because people don’t want to use metal detectors from 1963, they want to collect them.
We gave up on that and I called Friend With Metal Detector #2. Coworker Amanda brought her husband’s metal detector to work the next morning. It was several decades more advanced than Jerry’s. I took it home with optimism. Of course, we got home rather late and there was almost no daylight left, but we gave it a go anyway. Turns out my yard is full of things that go “blip!” and “bnerrrr!” But the darkness got the best of us and we had to give up.
This was last night. The overnight forecast was for some pretty impressive freezing rain and snow. Not great ring-hunting weather.
I got up early (amazing!) and headed outside in my pajama bottoms, hoodie, boots, and winter coat. Brr! It was cold, but only mildly damp. Within about five minutes, Dustin and the metal detector found the ring. It was about a foot away from where I’d been standing when the slug attacked. I probably would have found it eventually, using my grass-clipping plan, but the metal detector definitely made it easier.
I’ll take no revenge on the Evil Slug. I figure the first snowfall of the year will probably take care of that problem for me. Sorry slug. You can’t have my ring, my man, or a free vacation to warmer climes.