Rings and Things

Spring Break is upon us, and I rejoice! Well, mostly--I don't have too much going on in life, and I've spent an unfortunate amount of time moping around and scrolling through Instagram. But I have been able to get some writing and crocheting done, so that's good.
Another good thing is that my Saturdays have been booked with important events. This coming Saturday is a book signing at Kaboodles in Denison, Texas, if you feel like dropping by any time between ten-ish and four-ish (it's a very relaxed affair). Last Saturday, I went to a wedding. My best friend's sister got married to a Godly man, and I'm quite happy for her.
​I, at the moment, am hopelessly single. Most of the men my age at church are either taken or crazy, and all of my college classes are online. That said, I do wear a purity ring that my father gave me about four years ago. It's the only piece of jewelry that I regularly wear, and I rarely take it off for more than a few minutes.
On with the story. My mother insisted that I get my nails done for the wedding--fingers and toes. Now, my feet are extremely ticklish. What do I mean by extremely, you ask? I can tickle my own feet, which is theoretically impossible. The last time Mom touched my feet, I kicked her involuntarily and bruised her ribs. Thankfully, I was able to talk Mom out of the pedicure, but she still wanted me to get my fingernails done.
Fine. I'll capitulate. 
I show up at the nail salon and take off my purity ring. By the time I get home, it's one o'clock and I haven't eaten lunch yet. And I notice that my ring is missing. It's fallen out of my pocket. So back to the nail salon I go. The Asian couple who works there are very helpful in scouring the store with me, but no luck. I check the parking lot. No luck there, either. I get back home. It's two o'clock now, and I'm hangry as well as mad at myself. 
I go to the wedding, I eat pizza, I dance, and I have fun. Then, the next day, I went to the gym after church. Mom called me when I had just gotten out of the shower, telling me that she'd found my ring on the street where I usually park my car. My ring must have fallen out of my pocket as I was heading inside.
God must have been smiling on me, because I was convinced that ring was gone for good. I'm glad I've got it back. I felt weird without it.
What's something you lost and thought you'd never find again, but did find? And do you think I should go back to the salon and tell the Asian couple who works there that I did in fact find my ring? Let me know in the comments below! God bless you, dear readers, and don't forget to drop by Kaboodles this Saturday!