This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: A Thanksgiving Story

I should begin by describing the ring. It belonged to my great-grandmother Joyce, whom I never met. It was her wedding ring. It's small; white gold with two diamonds. Kind of an art-deco feel. Tons of sentimental value. I wear it as my wedding ring, but on my right hand because it doesn't match my engagement ring. Kinda quirky, but it works for me.

When it slipped from my fingers and dropped down the air conditioning vent on Thanksgiving morning, I felt oddly calm. Almost amused.

I'll be damned. Nothing but net. What are the odds?!

If you've never examined the inside of an air conditioning duct, I highly recommend it. I had not given much thought to what lies beneath the floor of my home and was surprised to discover a spacious system of pipes, an intriguing assortment of debris, and, thankfully, no spiders. After a few cautious, rubber-gloved swipes of the duct failed to uncover the ring, I called in reinforcements in the form of my pragmatic, level-headed husband.

Reason #28 why I know I married the right guy:



Our first attempts at locating the ring were rudimentary: a borrowed flashlight (courtesy of Gentleman C, our enigmatic neighbor) and a compact mirror. But with only an hour left until turkey-time at mom's house, we knew we'd have to step up our efforts. What a sight we must have been: Chuck crouched over the vent weilding a spatula and flashlight and me perched nervously nearby, one eye on the clock.

We'd drawn several spatula-fulls of dust and dirt from the vent when Chuck received a flash of inspiration. "I need a CAMERA!" he called, his voice echoing through the duct.



And thus we saw our first glimpse of the tiny ring, stranded several feet back in the duct. (That's it there in the photo--the little shiny object in the veeeeeery back.) Using the camera, we were able to determine the placement of our scooping tool in relation to the ring. Unfortunately, the spatula was just too short to reach the little sucker. (See picture below.)

We needed something longer. Something retractable. We needed... A SWIFFER! I raced to the kitchen and uncovered my Swiffer retractable cleaning wand. With the addition of a piece of cardstock it became a glorious scooping mechanism, and I felt truly smug and ingenius. (Except for the fact that I had, only minutes before, dropped a diamond ring down a vent. Except for that.) (See picture below.)

Like a surgeon and surgical nurse, we worked carefully, methodically. "Swiffer," Chuck would request. "Camera." The work was slow going, as the tiny ring was stubbornly entrenched and moved toward us only inches at a time. Beads of sweat gathered on Chuck's knitted brow, and I began to grow anxious--how was I going to explain to mom why I was late for Thanksgiving dinner? "Hi mom, I dropped your grandmother's ring down the vent. Sorry I'm late. Y'all go ahead and eat."?!?

Finally, after 45 minutes, Chuck had had enough. "You try!"

I kneeled beside the vent, peeked in to orient myself, brandished the swiffer, and scooped. And I GOT IT! On my first try! It was covered in dust but no worse for the wear.

And I'm never taking it off again. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead finger.


So, in this season of thanksgiving, I am thankful for technology--digital cameras, swiffer wands. I am thankful that my ring was saved. And I'm thankful for my best bud, who always bails me out when I do stupid stuff.

Thanks for letting me have the glory, Chuck. I know you quit just in time to let me find the ring.