I Still Don't Know What Day It Is: An Update

Well, I had an interesting turn of events today.

As soon as I finished writing about why I'm not blogging, I went home and checked One Last Place--my wardrobe. Now, I don't see why a ring would be in my wardrobe, but I looked anyway.

And guess what? I didn't find the ring. But I did find the $3.00 in riels that I was sure had been ripped off. Apparently, I did the responsible thing and put them inside a small medicine chest, which I normally keep toothbrushes in. I don't know how they got there--I have no memory of doing that, but I guess it was over a month ago.

That, of course, raises the tantalizing possibility that no one actually took my ring. I've accidentally swept the ring into the trash on at least one other occasion, and it's possible I did that again without noticing, somehow. Although I have a distinct memory of hurriedly shoving it between some other things, it is possible I didn't do that when I thought I did. Like I said, it's been a month.

So I must concede that the ring is equally likely to be missing due to my own negligence than due to thievery. Although I still wish I had the ring, I'd rather it belong to a garbage picker than a thief.

Because I can now entertain the possibility that no one ripped me off, the storm clouds have lifted. Vengeance need not be mine; I lay my weapons down. I am at peace.

And the ring may yet turn up, who knows?

Day Whatever: Screw Blogging

I haven't blogged for the last several days, because frankly, the only things that were going to spew from my fingertips were hate-filled diatribes and invective against Cambodian society. So I guess I lost my 30-Day Challenge.

I'm still pretty upset about the ring. Some guy got a shitload of money for it, at my expense, and I hope for his sake that I never find out who he is.

I've already talked to the landlady--I did even before my last entry. She told me to double check everything in my room and report back.

I tried talking my friend Thearea into becoming a mole and finding out who took it and where they sold it...but he's too conflict averse. And I can't do anything about it myself, seeing that I'm a non-Khmer-speaking white girl.

My only other option is going to the police, which will of course cost me more than the ring is even worth in financial and (possibly) sexual favors. I've been strongly cautioned against it.

So, as you can see, I'm pretty much stuck accepting the fact that some turd made off well at my expense. That's a lot easier said than done, and I am bitter.

I'll blog again whenever I get my sense of humor back.