Ring around the rosies



I was dragging Leon by some jewelery stores, pointing out the kinds of rings that I like. You know, just in case I'm dying and the only thing that will save my life is a 18 k white gold, round cut diamond eternity band, size 6 1/2. But I didn't see any in the windows that quite matched what I was looking for. Leon suggested that maybe a ring as such doesn't exist. I've seen many, so I knew that wasn't true. So I went to Macy's and bought a cheap cubic zirconium version.
Me: Look what I bought at Macy's for six bucks!
Leon: What size is it?
I wore it all weekend, until it started to turn my finger green. We were at the Kings game when I started to feel self concious about the discoloration on my skin, so I took the ring off and put it in my purse. It must have fallen out, because I couldn't find it when we got back from the game. Oh well, six bucks. I imagined that someone would be really happy finding it, thinking that it was a real treasure.
So I got to work on Monday and overhear some ladies talking.
Lady 1: Did you find out who that ring belonged to?
Lady 2: You found a ring?
Lady 3: Yes, it's at my house, I wonder who could be missing it?
Me: Hey, was it like, a cubic zirconium eternity band?
Ladies: That's YOURS?!
I don't usually wear rings, and they didn't peg me as the type to wear any jewelery, let alone costume jewelery. So I put some clear nail polish on the inside of the ring. Now it shouldn't turn me green.
Later.