On the way home from our honeymoon in Nashville, I pulled some lotion out of my purse to put on my hands. I looked down and thought, "I just had my engagement ring cleaned. I'll take my rings off." Well, I should have known that was a dumb idea. Just as I slid my wedding band off, I dropped both rings. My engagement ring landed in the seat next to me, so I slipped it back on and went searching in the floor for my wedding band. I couldn't find it!
At first it wasn't a big deal. It was obviously in the Trailblazer somewhere. I dug around between the seat and the console and in the floor under my feet for a while, but still couldn't find it. Steven started teasing me that, "we hadn't been married a week and you've already lost the ring." Yeah, not the thing to say. I started crying, and I know it made him feel horrible. He pulled off the interstate at Marion and assured me we would find it. I had stopped crying at this point, and got out to help him look under the seats for it. Still no luck. I was really starting to panic now. We got back on the road, and he promised me that worst case scenario, he'd go buy me another one as soon as his next paycheck came. Well, then I just started crying again. I didn't want a new one; I wanted that one. (I'm pretty sure at this point, my husband was beginning to wonder what kind of crybaby/nut-case he had married.) When we finally made it home, I started unloading our luggage while Steven tore the car apart to try to find my ring.
Half an hour later, I walked outside to see this...
He had to take the console completely apart, remove the passenger seat, and pull the carpet back to find my ring! Somehow it had made its way under the carpet under my seat to the middle of the floorboard beneath my feet! I was so happy to have it back I squealed, hugged Steven, and cried for second more. I told him that he was officially "My Hero for Life!"
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