You got gas? I don’t have gas.

Remember the ring, the diamond of which I lost, the ring that my mother gave me, that her father had made before she was born? I left that ring lying around for weeks hoping my husband would pick up the hint and get the stone replaced for me. He never did. Get the hint, that is. I finally brought up the subject myself and he just didn’t get it. Not at all. Like it made no sense to him. So I finally took it the jeweler myself.

We agreed upon a price which would see the purchase of a 12-point, second-quality diamond and the rebuilding of the claws that hold it in place. It wasn’t cheap (nothing is these days), but I was cool with it. The stone that I lost was not a particularly good diamond anyway. It wasn’t cut well and it had flaws.

I was just on my way out the door today to pick up some groceries and the phone rang. It was the jeweler calling to say my ring was ready, so I went there on my way to the supermarket. It’s gorgeous. I kept saying that it was so much more beautiful than the original. It turned out that he provided me with a 13-point first-quality diamond for the same price that we had agreed upon before.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that when I went to turn on the barbecue to cook the salmon filets I’d slathered with teriyaki sauce, the propane tank was empty. This is the same tank I bought 20 lbs. of propane for at Costco yesterday, that I watched the guy fill up. Empty. Zip. Nada. So I baked them in the oven. But I’m really rather pissed, as you can imagine.

My in-laws had already arrived when I got back with the groceries. They’re here for the weekend to watch Little Princess get her diploma tomorrow. I have been to a lot of convocations, but this is the first where it’s my child who is graduating. I’m contemplating drinking excessively for the next few days just so I can keep on my happy face. Don’t worry, excessive for me is two glasses of wine instead of one. I really am a lightweight.

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