Wednesday
8:54 a.m. Six minutes until I’m expected at work, and I haven’t left my dorm room to make the frozen trek across campus. I want to look somewhat decent for the first meeting of the campus choir, because I’m the president. That sounds like bragging. I'm not, it isn’t that big of a deal really. I sing, do paperwork when the school needs it, and make sure we get our required service project in for the semester. Ironing my shirt took longer than I thought, and I had to do something with my hair that ends with burning the nerves off of my finger tips as I juggle hot rollers. It’s grown too long to let it air-dry curly. When I do that it looks stringy. I spin around and use my bare feet to dig through the piles of clothing on the floor. Trying to find my other shoe is like trying to find a miniskirt in Vatican City. Sure, it’s probably there someplace but you’re going to have to work really hard to find it.
8:56 a.m. I let the apartment door shut behind me as I tuck my hair behind my ear. For goodness sake, I forgot to put on earrings. Because I’m wearing purple, I can sport my birthstone jewelry (amethyst) that I’ve been receiving since I was five. I have two pairs of purple earrings. The first set is just the stones set rather plainly. The second set, though, they’re my favorite. They have a tiny (like, pinprick tiny) diamond set above a little teardrop cut of amethyst. I have a matching necklace and bracelet, too. Probably the nicest thing I own (since my laptop is slowly but surely dying and I don’t have a car).
Jamming my key into the lock, I tell myself that I try too hard to make a good impression. It just pushes people away. Then I think, “Well, I might as well look nice while I do it,” and throw open the door.
I only wear that set when I want to feel extra pretty, so I reach for my earring container and pluck out the favorite set. Placing the container on my desk, next to the pile of papers I have to sort through and the text book I didn’t read, I drop one of the earrings. You know, Murphy’s Law has yet to fail me.
8:57 a.m. Scrambling on the floor has not helped me find this earring. It isn’t under my laundry bag, didn’t fall into a desk drawer that was half open, and certainly isn’t under that DVD I have meant to return to Blockbuster two weeks ago.
A reflex my mother instilled in me when I was five years old kicks in as I say aloud in a sing-song voice, “Saint Anthony, Saint Anthony, Please look around. Something’s been lost and must be found.” As a child, I watched my mother say that and not two minutes after, she would find a missing piece of paper she needed, the dog who slipped into the laundry room when she wasn’t looking, my brother’s clip on tie, etc. From somewhere in the house I would hear a triumphant cry of “I found it! Thanks Saint Anthony!”
I’m late, forget it. I’ll keep looking later today. Thanks a lot, Antonio. Now I’m really late. I throw in the not as favorable yet still acceptable earrings and half run across the ice.
9:05 a.m. The phone rings at work. It’s my boss.
“Arts Center.”
“Late again, today?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that, I…”
“Early is on time. On time is late. Get your ass to work on time!”
“Yes…”
*click*
“…sir.”
Friggin earrings.
9:34 p.m. I still can’t find the missing one. I vow to clean this weekend, not mention to my poor grandparents I lost their favorite gift to me, and swear it has to turn up eventually. I mean, it’s an earring, it can’t go far. Right? Right. I hope.
Thursday
9:52 a.m. Crap! I forgot to look for the earring this morning. Well, there’s always tonight.
2:34 p.m. I grab the yellow ‘sign-in’ sheet and write my name as a tutor for writing. Basically, I get paid to sit and do homework, since it’s a rarity that someone comes into the Academic SUPPORT (they are calling it ‘Success’ this year, and after three years of hearing ‘support’, I think ‘success’ sounds like a cheesy way to make struggling students feel better about themselves) Center to ask for help on their papers. The other tutors and I discuss the lovely -26 wind chill factor and how it’s supposed to go up to a balmy 0 later tomorrow.
3:47 p.m. Another half of an hour and I can go home. I’m sick of reading Dante’s Inferno, I can’t concentrate. More idle chatter ensues until one of the work study students who sits at the front desk approaches our table.
“Did anyone lose an earring in here yesterday?”
Everyone shakes their heads. “I don’t think so,” says Megan in that slow way one talks when trying to think back on the events that happened the day before.
“Are you sure? We think one of the tutors lost it. It’s purple…”
“YOU were wearing a purple earring, Mich!”
Yes. Yes I was. But I had both of those when I came home. It’s the pretty one that I was missing, and I lost that four hours before I came in to tutor. "I’ll take a look, but I don’t think it’s mine."
Front Desk Girl opens a drawer and pulls out an earring with a tiny (like, pinprick tiny) diamond set above a little teardrop cut of amethyst. Thanks Saint Anthony.
