My fantastical niece, Sylvie(8) arrived yesterday and will be here for a week! Yaaay! I met my sister at a town about halfway between our houses to pick her up. Sylvie was hungry so we decided to get a bite to eat before we went home. The place that we were eating at is one that Sweety is kind of affiliated with and I decided to work on my people skills by saying hi to the manager of the place because I had met him once before. (so now he knows just who I am for the foolishness that follows)
We eat our food and then go to the bathroom to wash our hands before leaving. When we get back to our booth, I realize that my hands are kind of wet and it bugs me if it feels wet under my rings. So I take off my wedding rings to dry under them. And the wedding band goes sailing through the air and lands directly in the space between the wall and the bench that you sit on. I shit myself when I realized that the booths were stuck in place and could not be moved so I could just pluck out my ring.
Sylvie and I spend a bit of time (well, she spends a bit of time because she has little skinny hands and can reach in the crack between the seat and wall better than me.) digging stuff out of the crack but can't fish my ring out. I finally break down and ask the waitress if the booth can be moved back but it can't. (as I'd already figured out by trying to yank it away from the wall already.) The manager comes over and tries to get the ring or move the booth but he can't. Finally, some kid comes out from the kitchen with a wire-thingy and after about 15 minutes, fishes my ring out. I felt like such a dork. What are the freaking odds that the one time that I accidentally launch my ring off of my finger that it will fall into an abyss?
During the ride home I found out something about my sister that was a surprise. Sylvie says to me, "I need to ask you if something about my Mom is true. Since you're her sister, I thought you would know." Then Sylvie asks me if it is true that her mom drowned the possum that we were trying to keep as a pet when we were kids. I tell her no, that the baby possum drowned in his milk bowl by himself but Sylvie tells me that her mom told her that she stuck the possum's head in the milk. I am suddenly filled with fresh horror (much like the horror that consumed me when I found the possum face-down in the milk dish with a little milk air bubble coming out of his nose.) and I call my sister to ask her about this.
Sure enough, she played a part in his death. She planted his face in the milk bowl before we went to school because she thought it would help him eat but things didn't work out that way because the possum was too small to get his head out of the milk dish. (With hindsight being 20/20, we probably should have been feeding the possum with a little bottle.) I can't believe that for the past 20 years I have thought that the possum committed suicide because it was so upset about being in captivity but it was really my sister's handiwork.
I told Sylvie about seeing the milk air bubble stuck to the possum's nose and she exclaimed, "Hey! You got to see its last breath!". I'd never thought of it that way but yeah, I guess so.