Personal Treasure Hunt.


Another day passes and I still haven’t found my wedding ring.

I’m trying to make my search as methodical as possible and yet it still hasn’t turned up. Today’s mission was to pull out the upright piano that's in my living room to see if it was underneath it. I hadn’t prepared myself for how hard it would be to move on my own; I’ve pushed many an upright about in classrooms in my off/on sideline as a singing teacher, but in most instances they (a) weren’t sitting on carpet and (b) had probably been moved sometime in the last ten years; mine hasn’t been shifted for so long the casters have seized up, which could have led to my back seizing up too if I hadn’t been careful; my cat watched me silently from her favourite chair throughout, probably thinking, ‘What the hell's the bigger of my two live-in slaves doing now?’

It’s so frustrating that I can’t find it, when it has to be here somewhere. There are only so many places jewellery can hide in a one-bedroom flat, yet wherever it is, it’s clearly the most secure, as I’ve practically turned over everything I own in my hunt.  I’m beginning to wonder if I accidentally swallowed it. Or maybe my hands have grown so flat it entered my bloodstream by osmosis (which I always thought would be a good name for an Oasis tribute band; perhaps I should form one as a get-rich-quick scheme to buy a replacement).

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