The pineapple Lifesaver, rather inexplicably, has been the little dish's sole inhabitant for some weeks past. (Well, not so inexplicably: I'm sick of Lifesavers, and I don't much like the pineapple ones. I must have dropped it in while cleaning out my purse or something--Talk about respect for artisanal crafts.)
I already feel guilty for not wearing the ring, mostly because of Rob, though I've told him that I don't think the entire marriage is now null and void. (He may be trying to find a loophole. Nice shot.) Last week, I left if off for a few days, hoping the swelling and the rash would dissipate, which they did not. Unfortunately, two frequent library patrons noticed: "You look like you're gonna have a kid," in surprise. Affirmative. "WHERE'S YOUR WEDDING RING?" in mild horror. Oy.