Wednesday, September 01, 2004

a big yellow rubber band 

This morning, Paul couldn't find his Live Strong wristband. He had placed it on his nightstand before going to sleep, along with his watch and Medic-Alert bracelet. As he was on his way out the door, I handed him my band, and set out to recover his.

(We both wear the bright yellow bracelets, would wear them even were they not, according to the NY Times, the fashion accessory of the season. When I met Paul, he was a long-distance cyclist. He has followed the Tour de France for years. We knew of Lance Armstrong, and his battle with cancer, before his became a household name. Lance is a remarkable man, who is doing wonderful work for cancer survivors.)

When something small goes missing in our house, it's usually down to one of the boys. Not surprisingly, they have their individual preferences. As befits his tuxedo, Sergei likes bling-bling: nail clippers, earrings, the metallic clips on pens. Sasha, for no reason that I can fathom, has a thing about fasteners. He loves hairbands, and twist-ties... and rubber bands. He collects fasteners from around the house, and caches them under the edges of the living room rug. As a Live Strong bracelet looks pretty much like a big yellow rubber band, I guessed that Sasha was the culprit... and I thought that I might know where to find the purloined wristband.

I headed downstairs. I imagined Sasha trotting down the same stairs in the dark, plume of tail held high (as he is wont to do when carrying a prize), yellow wristband dangling from his teeth. I could visualize him batting the band around for a while, then trying to lift the edge of the rug to nudge it underneath. As I walked into the living room, I spotted the Live Strong band. It lay half on, half off the rug, near Sasha's favorite spot in front of the armoire. I inspected it for toothmarks, and was strangely saddened to see that there were none.