Over the holidays, B and I picked up the wedding bands we'd ordered. In time, we'll need to get them engraved, but for now we're just holding them in an undisclosed location. We went to get them so we could try them on.B put his on, shook his hand around a little, pronounced it fitting, then put it back in its box. I put mine on. Put it on by itself. Put it on with my engagement ring. Put it on the other hand. Put it on fingers extended. Put it on fingers curled into a fist.
Finally I realized she'd packed B's back up and moved onto paperwork. She slid the box over to me and said, "I'm just going to let you take that off on your own time."
Wise lady.
I did wear it out to lunch, but only because it felt wrong, nay, irresponsible even to leave it in the car while we dined on La Paz. But then I promise I took it off. Right after his Mom and Dad saw it, too.
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