found it.

We're two days back to school and I am exhausted. The kids haven't even come yet. This is purely staff meetings, bulletin boarding, and a lot of teacher chit-chat exhaustion. It's just really hard returning to work after 2 1/2 months off (That was mean. I know. Not everyone gets a summer vacation. I should play nice. Doesn't mean I'm gonna).

I've been in a mad cleaning blitz to prep the house for the coming monsoon of school starting. I shurk a lot of responsibility around here when school starts. I want to feel bad about that, but it's just, well, I don't because starting a school year is unlike anything else. My feeling is that if I can get the house really clean before school starts, then I can kind of coast for a few weeks. It's not ideal, but it's completely necessary.

And when I say clean, I mean, crazy clean.

Scrub the baseboards clean. Soak the veggie keeper clean. Actually go through boxes of junk that may (or may not) be left over from moving into this house a year and a half ago clean. Whatever. Judgy wudgy was a bear. Some boxes, and the entire extra bedroom, were left to their own devices. I'm really more of a progressive mover-inner. I would say, rough estimate, that we are fully unpacked no sooner than year 5 of house-ownership. Write than down. Oh look, I did it for you (I'm such a giver).

There were some gems of items found in the box I'd stuffed in the corner of our closet that I was using as a clothing display (I tell Chuck I'm displaying my clothes. Really, I'm too lazy to hang them back up. Oh and I'm also 12).

But the best thing, one of my favorite things in the whole world, I found buried at the bottom of the box. And yes, I did know it was missing. I wasn't actively looking for it, so much as I knew it was somewhere in the house, I was content with that, and when it was ready, it would be found.

And I found it.


There.
That's it.
A little (cheap) sterling silver band.

Ah, but it's so much more.

Chuck gave me that ring in college seven years ago. Oh my. Seven years ago to almost this exact weekend. I just vomited. Seriously. It's offensive to me how long I've had that ring. Really offensive.

Ok. Back to the ring.

The year I got this ring was the year of The Promise Rings. Everyone we knew had promise rings, were giving promise rings, or were hoping to get a promise ring. Apparently, promise rings were all the rage in college and every boyfriend was getting one for every girlfriend.

Chuck and I did not like promise rings.
[disclaimer: if you had, have, or hope to have a promise ring, well, don't take this personally. This is simply a story about a boy and a girl who are a little off and do things a little weird.]

I think we just didn't get promise rings.
We never could figure out what people were promising.
And whatever it was, it seemed so permanent. A huge promise to make at 20. Too big for us, anyways.

But, everyone had one.

So, did that mean we were going to have to get one?
Were we, barely out of our teens, still susceptible to peer pressure?

Kind of.
But not really.

Chuck got me this ring.
And he had "maybe" engraved across the top.

Maybe he'd stay with me.
Maybe he wouldn't.

It's my Maybe Ring.

And maybe it would end up as arguably the best representation of our entire relationship.
A little off, a little funny, and a little perfect for us.

Maybe. Maybe not.

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