I’ve spent the last forty eight hours in panic, tearing apart my entire apartment looking for my pearl earring, which bounced to the floor Friday night, landing somewhere beyond my sight. After throwing every piece of bedroom furniture aside, scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees and clearing the – I am mortified to admit this – mountains of under-the-bed dust bunnies, I still can’t find it. The earrings were an unexpected Valentine’s Day gift from my husband and one would think I had actually lost him, rather than a silly piece of jewelry the way I have been carrying on the past two days. My husband is a relatively relaxed person, which counters my hyper anxiety driven self.Shortly after we became engaged, I lost my engagement ring in our apartment. I came to him sobbing incomprehensibly and when he could finally decipher what I was saying, he was like, “That’s all? I thought you were sick or something.” His attitude was: if you find it, you find it. If you don’t, you’ll have to go without a ring for awhile and when we can afford a new one, we’ll buy one. I found it shortly after my sobs, but that’s the thing, I never really lost anything in the first place. We were still getting married, we were still together. Wedding rings are a symbol, nothing more.
I keep thinking of this billboard we saw last weekend on the Highline. On our way to the TriBeCa Film Festival, we decided to stroll the Highline, not thinking that on a beautiful NY Saurday afternoon it would be mobbed. We found ourselves marrooned to the sidelines and caught sight of David Shrigley’s installation “How are you feeling?”, which you can view: here. We both laughed when we saw it: it’s a pretty good insight into my habitual interior monolgoue. Judging by the laughter from those on the Highline and the installation’s popularity: it’s a hyperbolic representation of the minds of most people. To borrow from Richard Carlson — we’re sweating the small stuff and its mostly all small stuff.
We took the bedroom tornado as an opportunity to engage in a deep spring clean and tried to charitably recycle all of the clothes and shoes that we no longer wear. We began sorting through the clothes and gear we’ll bring on the Wainwright and started to organize our maps, and guidebooks, and clothes. My pearl earring is still missing, but my apartment feels so much more full. Nothing is really missing.