I have a funny story for you. It involves digging through the garbage, so obvi, it's awesome.
So last Thursday, we had guests coming over. On Wednesday, all I had left to do was clean the floors in preparation. When you have 2 dogs and one of them sheds a whole 'nother dog everyday, you wait until the last minute to do these things. Chris would be picking up the guests while I was working Thursday afternoon, and I wanted them to have a nice, clean place to stay.
So, there I am, vacuuming in the master bedroom (the only carpeted room in the house) and this carpet is just in terrible condition. The landlord should have replaced it before we moved in, but whatevs. The carpet was damaged by the previous tenant. There are runs, tears, burns, stains, etc. Every time I vacuum, a stray end will get caught on the brush bar, the vacuum stops, and a run gets bigger. And it fills the house with that nasty burnt rubber smell. It's kind of awful.
This happened Wednesday night, like it always does, but this time the vacuum never recovered. I pull out the offending carpet scraps, which usually does the trick, but nothing is being picked up off the floor. After some investigation where we find nothing offensive, I decide to use the hose to vacuum the remainder of the room, since it continues to work.
Fast forward to Saturday, I am getting ready to go to a celebration at the Barnes' for Walt's seminary graduation. (way to go, Walt!!) As I'm finishing my primping, I look to the small glass tray in the bathroom where I keep my most commonly worn jewelry - my 2 rings, pearl earrings, and diamond cross. On any given day, this is how I'm probably accessorized. I put on the rings, but notice the necklace and earrings are not there. I instantly remember that I was polishing some of my jewelry earlier in the week and put the earrings in the jewelry drawer (where everything really should go) in my dresser. But I cannot think of what I've done with the necklace. I look through the drawer and find the earrings exactly where I knew I left them, but the necklace is not there. I look again. I check the bathroom again. I check my nightstand. I check all the tiny, nonsensical boxes on my dresser and in the bathroom. No where. I quickly look on the floor around the dresser, bed, and the bathroom. No necklace. I run to Chris and ask if he's found it and hidden it from me (again) to teach me a lesson (again). Nope. I'm pretty sure I remember it last being in the glass dish. Chris is fairly certain he saw it last spread across the top of my dresser. Oh no.
We leave, because we're already late. I am heartsick the entire way there, worried that I've lost something very special to me, something Chris spent a sum of money on and painstakingly picked out for me, and yet another piece of jewelry.
There's an inside story here, where I've lost other jewelry very special to me. On our first date, Chris gave me a beautiful silver and mother of pearl cross necklace. I didn't take it off for years. On a trip that was intended for a waterpark but ended in a thunderstorm, I took the necklace off, placed it in my overnight bag, and never saw it again. I also was given pearl and diamond earrings with a strand of pearls for my college graduation, from my mom - those earrings were lost in a laser tag place; they came off when I pulled the laser tag vest off, over my head. I replaced them before my mom ever knew. In fact, she still doesn't know. Shhhh. The imposter earrings are the same earrings I mention wearing everyday. And there are more, but seriously this is too long already. You could say I'm irresponsible, but I don't think that's it. I think I'm easily distracted and scatterbrained.
I get home Saturday evening and look more in depth. I look under the bed, under the dresser. I pull out the shelf in the bathroom to see if the necklace fell behind it. Still nothing. Chris calls the friends that stayed to see if they noticed it, or if it got tangled in their things. Nothing again.
Here we are, yesterday. I've been thinking about it for days, and I know the vacuum has some answers. I turn the vacuum over to try to take the bar out, get to the mouth of the hose, but I can't. The thing just doesn't come off! I decide to go the other way and disconnect the hose. I shake things around, trim off as much of the carpet from the bar that I can, find nothing blocking the hoses, but I'm still determined. I take the canister out, empty it into a box and rifle through all the nastiness in there. Nothing still. Chris joins in and decides to get power tools involved, of course. He starts loosening screws and figures out how to get the cover off. This makes it obvious why the vacuum no longer works. The belt broke. We would never have known if he had not taken the thing apart. But at this point we do find a piece of the chain! Yay!
There is still no cross. I remembered that right after the vacuum stopped I emptied the canister in the trash. Crap. Chris tries to search the garbage. Wouldn't you know that was the very first thing in a new trash bag?! There's now a week of yuck on top of that yuck. And since we recycle, it's mostly veggie scraps and things that are decomposing and causing our fruit flies. Double crap. So once Chris gets to the 3 week old green beans (they sat in the fridge for 2 weeks before cultivating life of their own, causing them to be thrown out without being cooked), he's out. He's gagging and calling for me. So I say a prayer and dive in. I was gagging, armpit deep in trash and still didn't find that effing necklace. So much gross.
I go back to the vacuum, because it still has to have the answer, and I just sit there looking at it. Chris suggests a full-scale search of the house. And then goes completely crazypants and suggests looking through the dog poop in the backyard. No sir. I'm out. I shake the vacuum a few more times, I don't know why really. It's clearly not helping. I start to look under the dresser again, move the vacuum, lean down, and bam. Right in front of my little eyes, there lies a sweet little diamond cross. And I bet that beezy was just lying there the whole time I was digging in that garbage. So rude.