After letting my secret out of the bag with yesterday's post, the guilt ran amok in my dreams...
I lost my engagement ring. It's uninsured and I am in hysterics. Doc H (who's mad) and I are driving somewhere down a dark, dusty road. He pulls over into a gas station with a little mini-mart. In the dull, dusty, dirty, greasy gas station mini-mart, they sell engagement rings. They're not displayed in a glass case...the are individually wrapped in cellophane and hung up by size on a round display rack
He buys me one and slips it on my finger in an effort to make me feel better. I look down at it. It is four flakes of diamond that still don't pull a TCW of even an eighth of a carat. PLUS, the setting is a gray plastic and the ring also doubles as a radio.
When I woke up and realized it was a dream, I woke up Doc H to tell him of my dream (I'm sure he appreciated the 5:30am wake up). Still slathered in slumber, he managed to say, "That's right. If you loose your ring, the next one is from a gas station."
Ugh. The nuns and priests successfully did their job on me.
I hope the karma for writing that post ends here.