Bound to get you.

Close to eighteen months ago, a ring slipped off my finger while I was putting a dress away. I didn't even hear it hit the floor. I knew it was somewhere in my closet - not even my apartment, my closet - but beyond that, it'd effectively disappeared. Like I said, it put me in the Borgesian situation of both having lost something and knowing exactly where it was.

Tonight, I picked out a nice dress I don't usually wear for a formal family dinner tonight. I pulled it out of the closet and flipped it around to put it on - and I finally hear the ring fall to the floor.

(Incidentally, the other ring I'd thought lost on my way to the laundry room had just slipped underneath my laptop, which I found out when I went to the bother of dusting.)