After 8 months into this marriage thing, my husband loses his wedding ring. I hate to say "I told you so" (who am I kidding, no I don't), but how many times does a woman have to tell her man to stop throwing his ring up in the air, spinning it on the table, or twirling it on his finger? Naturally, the best place to lose a heavy, tungstun wedding band is at dusk... right before a thunderstorm... in a 40-acre yard. My husband neglected to tell me that he lost the ring until the next day (because having a coronary is only bad right before bed apparently?). He and his mother spent several days raking the yard, walking barefoot to feel the metal with their toes, and even resorted to borrowing a metal detector (which he ended up breaking...oops), only to find that metal detectors detect everything BUT tungston!
    Several heavy rainstorms later, I'm pretty sure there's not a chance in this world that his ring hasn't soaked right down to the center of the earth. I'm incredibly angry.... However, secretly I'm a little bit tickled, and this is why. Since this ring "disappeared" (he even tried to blame it on the dog. I mean, come on!), my hubby has volunteered to make me breakfast, offered to bring me dinner at work, and is trying to find plans for us to do during the long weekend coming up. Some call this sucking up. Wives call it an payment.... because even when her man hasn't done anything requiring a good suck up, we all know that it's just a matter of time before his bill is due.