Our guy behind the counter told us, in no uncertain terms, that my engagement ring was not repairable. It was too delicate and risked destruction because the damage was so severe.
I explained to him that it had emotional value to me and he still shut me down. He kept telling us it was too old. Wait. I don't like that. It's only been thirty years. That doesn't seem old to me, at least, not for a ring. Who knew?
Our wedding bands were left behind for their upgrades. Saturday we will be lighter in the pocketbook when we pick those babies up but our fingers will once again be clothed.
Hmm. Maybe I can get Scott to cough up the cash for some other piece of bling for me.
Not likely.
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