AH

I got the call on Friday morning about my ring. And as expected, the message left was for Simon.

I drove up there after work to pick it up. I didn't want to delay picking it up, just in case Simon shows up there buying something for the person I'm sure he's already sleeping with. (I'll get to that in another post.)

I let the receptionist know I was there to pick up a ring. She waved me around the corner to the desk. There were about 3 sales people along with the receptionist all hanging around. I guess ring sales are slow during the Labour Day weekend.

She asked me for either the work order receipt, or some identification. My heart stopped. I don't have any ID with my married name. I never legally changed it - a point of contention with Simon - again, a story for another post. I panicked for what seemed to be a good 30 seconds. Then I remembered shoving the receipt into my purse. Thank goodness I shove EVERYTHING into my purse. I dug around and found the magic paper.

She sent one of the sales people to the vault to get my ring. As I was waiting, one of the sales people asked me what I was picking up. Again, my brain went into stupid mode and it took me a moment to come up with the answer. I finally managed to string together, "I had my ring sized down to a pinkie ring". The guy just kind of looked at me funny. I guess Spence is so entrenched in promoting engagement/wedding rings, the people who work there are not capable of imagining a ring being worn on any other finger other than the left ring finger.

The first sales guy came back and presented me with a little blue box. I opened it, and there was my ring, all sparkling and shiny, waiting for me to slip it on. Which I did immediately. Everyone oohed and aahed over it. I thank them and start to leave when the receptionist stopped me. Again, my heart stops. The jig is up. They've figured out that Simon and I aren't together anymore and they are going to charge me for the sizing.

"You need to sign this receipt acknowledging you've picked up the ring."

Ah, yes. Sign for the ring. Stupid stupid me.

I grinned sheepishly and mumbled something about my mind already being on long weekend mode. I picked up the pink pen (honestly, can they get anymore hokey?) and started signing my name. I got through my first name just fine, and as I started my last name, I realized that I should probably sign it with my married name. I didn't know whether to cry or throw up. I wished them all a nice long weekend and ran the hell out of the store.

Anyway, here it is. I have to admit, it looks way cuter than I thought it would. Thanks Oprah.