Where is....

my memory?

They say that there is no such thing as baby brain. But in the past week I have misplaced my engagement ring which was hooked onto a watch and two other rings I had been wearing that day. I searched the trash, I moved furniture, I even went into the street in front of our house because around the time I remembered removing it, I went outside to say hello to a friend.

My husband, memory of an elephant for unflattering moments, kept asking me if I had left it at work when I washed my hands. This because once I ordered a McFlurry and got upset when the woman gave me an M and M one when I thought I had ordered and Oreo (turns out I hadn't and he was there to witness this through the ages). This was in my non pregnant life and I have never failed to live this moment down as proof of my faulty memory in the four plus years since.

We went to bed, wondering if we had renewed the insurance on the ring, wishing I had lost the wedding bands which were no longer wearable because they were too small - tucked safely in the jewelry box (they were cheaper he said) not knowing where the hooked rings and watch were. I woke up in the morning and went downstairs in my tank top and underwear, looking around the house with fresh eyes.

I was drawn to a book out of place on the bookshelf behind where my dearest had been studying for hours for a big test on Sunday. I picked up the book and thought: Right, I was holding this around the time there was someone at the door and I thought I had walked over to the entry way table. The ring is here somewhere. Being too short to put it on top of the book case, I looked around at the surrounding shelves. Thank God: There it was. Ten steps from where he sat in his chair at the dining table.

And there's something wrong with my memory? What about his eyes?
He maintains that this was my problem which I am now trying to turn back on him.



On Sunday morning we had a fly epidemic in the house - unexplained and early enough in the morning that I slept through it while my husband spread Piff Paff (a powdery version of Raid) underneath the kitchen and front doors. I came downstairs hours later to find the remains of 100s of their wingless bodies. That day I wore the tan pair with a blue jean dress. A new maternity outfit despite having only two months left because I cannot be bothered with bending down to put on pants anymore.

Now my favorite black shoes (the ones wide enough for my pregnancy feet and yet somewhat stylish) are missing. Today I put on my the trustworthy black dress - the one a friend convinced me to buy along with a pile of maternity clothes left by a pregnant expat woman who left Qatar in a hurry - that I have been wearing weekly to work. And looked for the black shoes.

Missing. I asked the man who lives here with me if he had seen them. Surprise. He hadn't. So I'll have to figure this out.