The Case Of The Far Flung Ring
Without Prejudice
It's the Silly Season where not much happens. We Aussies are sloth like as we wade through the moist heat that drags at our legs and psyches. The air is torpid, rooms heat in a flash half hour and we are treated to endless hours of televised cricket and tennis. Our bodies are sluggish from post Christmas Food hangover. I was so sick of leftovers this week I threw the last baking dish full into the backyard for the families muscled up cat and the birds. Baking tray and all.
Nights are hot, temperatures sometimes staying high over night. Sleep therefore sometimes eludes us and weird things can and do happen to people that are sleep deprived. Take the case of the far flung ring. I have been wearing a ring on my wedding finger. It's a ring someone found in the dirt of the back yard. Silver carved exterior and a large deep red stone with a chip in it.
I never wear rings, I have none. I find they look pretty ordinary on more mature skin. I hate the look of almost claw like fingers, encrusted with rings, grasping hands almost predatory. Rings are for the young or the long married, like my 93 year old Aunt who wears it in love and memory of her husband
who died 25 years ago. And her rings are small and humble. Fifty years of memories.
So I decided to wear the ring of red on my wedding finger after wearing it on my left hand for ages. A faux warning to would be suitors I am not available. Yes, even at my age I get hit on and one recently was giving me the willies. He was on something and it gave him Dutch courage to approach me in " that way" . Considering he used to work for us and my ex husband would laugh his head off off if he knew he was chasing me made me make up faux boyfriends, cut him off Facebook and wear the ring.
But the ring has a mind of its own. Firstly I found it in the bed when making it. I was a bit puzzled, it fits well, not likely to just fall off. I continued making the bed, when faced with humdrum chores I regress to be the housemaid at the Sheraton Mirage, I once was. Best training I ever had and I now love cleaning because of it. Little Miss Snob here didn't want the work at first. I was a Purchasing Officer. Well, after a while, after interview after interview I realised no one would give me a job on the Gold Coast in an office.
One older man told me the truth. Hiring a Melbourne person rather than a local was silly as the Melbourne person is likely to return to Melbourne 85% of the time. So I sucked it up and went to work as a humble housemaid at Royal Pines and The Sheraton Mirage, Main Beach, Gold Coast. It was the hardest work I ever did and the most enjoyable. The team was fantastic, we received tips, I met famous people and the money was great if you worked day after day.
One of the rules was to strip sheet by sheet, not bundle the bedding in a big roll. That's due to things like syringes, razor blades, blood, used condoms, nestled in the bedding. No one wants a stick injury. So the only thing I have ever found in my Charlie Brown linen bedding was one small scared spider and my ring. I put it back on and finished the bed. At least ai wasn't having to do envelope corners and fold back blankets.
So it happened again, this time the ring on the floor and I checked my fingers for contact dermatitis. No rash, no irritation, why was I removing the ring while asleep? I make the bed as the first chore in my unit. It's another Sheraton rule, make the bed first as it then provides the " table " on which you can place all your " stuff".my bed fills the small room and I am ready to downsize to a single King.
Once again I placed the ring back on my wedding ring finger. And forgot about it.
Three days later I found the ring flung across the room. It was in a corner of the room and I realised that while asleep I was removing it and flinging it off. I decided my thoughts on marriage are
ambivalent at best. That was why I was taking it off. I can't be owned, my privacy and new found freedom, ( my girls are fine, grown up into Mothers themselves---don't need me ) is everything I longed for when I was a young Mum trapped in a loveless marriage. Misery is being married to the wrong person, happiness to the right one.
I know there are fabulously happily married people out there, best friends that still feel that love and desire for each other's company. Sadly for me that is not an option and never going to happen. I have a talent for picking the wrong people. Maybe if I found a low sex drive Millionaire who has a vast mansion and takes forever to reach my side of the house as now that I have it I love my privacy. I always wanted to reach that state of bliss.
Happy to be by myself, a devoted writer, a restorer of " old things " a brainy dork, a glamour puss in
retro vintage clothing, a collector, a maintenance person, a travel writer, grandma, great grandma, watching kids grow, teaching them, mentoring them. I am in Bliss.
The ring went in my jewellery box and will stay there forever. It's just too weird.
It's the Silly Season where not much happens. We Aussies are sloth like as we wade through the moist heat that drags at our legs and psyches. The air is torpid, rooms heat in a flash half hour and we are treated to endless hours of televised cricket and tennis. Our bodies are sluggish from post Christmas Food hangover. I was so sick of leftovers this week I threw the last baking dish full into the backyard for the families muscled up cat and the birds. Baking tray and all.
Nights are hot, temperatures sometimes staying high over night. Sleep therefore sometimes eludes us and weird things can and do happen to people that are sleep deprived. Take the case of the far flung ring. I have been wearing a ring on my wedding finger. It's a ring someone found in the dirt of the back yard. Silver carved exterior and a large deep red stone with a chip in it.
I never wear rings, I have none. I find they look pretty ordinary on more mature skin. I hate the look of almost claw like fingers, encrusted with rings, grasping hands almost predatory. Rings are for the young or the long married, like my 93 year old Aunt who wears it in love and memory of her husband
who died 25 years ago. And her rings are small and humble. Fifty years of memories.
So I decided to wear the ring of red on my wedding finger after wearing it on my left hand for ages. A faux warning to would be suitors I am not available. Yes, even at my age I get hit on and one recently was giving me the willies. He was on something and it gave him Dutch courage to approach me in " that way" . Considering he used to work for us and my ex husband would laugh his head off off if he knew he was chasing me made me make up faux boyfriends, cut him off Facebook and wear the ring.
But the ring has a mind of its own. Firstly I found it in the bed when making it. I was a bit puzzled, it fits well, not likely to just fall off. I continued making the bed, when faced with humdrum chores I regress to be the housemaid at the Sheraton Mirage, I once was. Best training I ever had and I now love cleaning because of it. Little Miss Snob here didn't want the work at first. I was a Purchasing Officer. Well, after a while, after interview after interview I realised no one would give me a job on the Gold Coast in an office.
One older man told me the truth. Hiring a Melbourne person rather than a local was silly as the Melbourne person is likely to return to Melbourne 85% of the time. So I sucked it up and went to work as a humble housemaid at Royal Pines and The Sheraton Mirage, Main Beach, Gold Coast. It was the hardest work I ever did and the most enjoyable. The team was fantastic, we received tips, I met famous people and the money was great if you worked day after day.
One of the rules was to strip sheet by sheet, not bundle the bedding in a big roll. That's due to things like syringes, razor blades, blood, used condoms, nestled in the bedding. No one wants a stick injury. So the only thing I have ever found in my Charlie Brown linen bedding was one small scared spider and my ring. I put it back on and finished the bed. At least ai wasn't having to do envelope corners and fold back blankets.
So it happened again, this time the ring on the floor and I checked my fingers for contact dermatitis. No rash, no irritation, why was I removing the ring while asleep? I make the bed as the first chore in my unit. It's another Sheraton rule, make the bed first as it then provides the " table " on which you can place all your " stuff".my bed fills the small room and I am ready to downsize to a single King.
Once again I placed the ring back on my wedding ring finger. And forgot about it.
Three days later I found the ring flung across the room. It was in a corner of the room and I realised that while asleep I was removing it and flinging it off. I decided my thoughts on marriage are
ambivalent at best. That was why I was taking it off. I can't be owned, my privacy and new found freedom, ( my girls are fine, grown up into Mothers themselves---don't need me ) is everything I longed for when I was a young Mum trapped in a loveless marriage. Misery is being married to the wrong person, happiness to the right one.
I know there are fabulously happily married people out there, best friends that still feel that love and desire for each other's company. Sadly for me that is not an option and never going to happen. I have a talent for picking the wrong people. Maybe if I found a low sex drive Millionaire who has a vast mansion and takes forever to reach my side of the house as now that I have it I love my privacy. I always wanted to reach that state of bliss.
Happy to be by myself, a devoted writer, a restorer of " old things " a brainy dork, a glamour puss in
retro vintage clothing, a collector, a maintenance person, a travel writer, grandma, great grandma, watching kids grow, teaching them, mentoring them. I am in Bliss.
The ring went in my jewellery box and will stay there forever. It's just too weird.
