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Dear Sorrelli

Dear Sorrelli,

Enclosed, you will find my bracelet and necklace.  I am hoping that these can be repaired.

Before you begin to inspect them, I feel the need to share the sordid tale of how they came to be in their current condition.

You see, it all started with a little visitor we had on October 10th.

His name was Michael, and he arrived with a vengeance.

He thought he was going to be sneaky, but boy when he left, he gave us a few things to remember him by.

Even though it’s been two months, evidence of his little visit is strewn everywhere – in the form of tons of debris.

It was such detritus that is to blame for my misshapen bling.

Well, that and a little thing I call Hurricane Brain.

You see, last Monday, I had dressed and gotten in my car to head to work at the butt crack of dawn, another wonderful change since Michael departed because, well, we start school at 7am now.

I rushed out, jewelry in hand.  I figured that I’d put my bracelet and necklace on in the car at a red light.  I had already put on the matching earrings and ring because I was afraid I’d lose them.

I got about three houses down my street before I remembered that I needed to check my tires.  My pressure gauge light had alerted me to the fact that something was amiss, and the car had been feeling like it wasn’t riding right.  A few days before, I had run over a piece of debris that was in the road.

So, I stopped the car, got out, and took a look.

That didn’t look good, so I sent a picture to the Mr. and asked if he thought it was flat.  He told me to take it by the Toyota place after work just to make sure.

Then, I got back in the car and drove to work.  When I got there, I looked for my jewelry.  I’d placed it in my lap when I’d left.

I couldn’t find them.

I got out and looked all over my car . . . to no avail.

And then I knew.

Sigh.

I knew that I’d dumped those glittery pieces of happiness right in the middle of my street when I’d looked at my tires.

My heart fell.

I called the Mr., who had gone back to bed.  He doesn’t have to get up with the roosters because his work hours are for humans.

He groggily answered.

I felt so bad about waking him up again.

I told him what had happened and begged him to go down the street to see if he could find my baubles.

He fussed at me but ultimately agreed.

He texted me back a few minutes later and said he hadn’t been able to find them.

Ugh.

The bell for first period hadn’t rung yet, so I walked as fast as I could back to my car.  I tore that thing apart on the hunt for lost items.

Then, he called me.

He’d found them!  This time, he’d walked down the street instead of driven.  He had missed them the first time because they’re the color of the asphalt.  Who knew that asphalt could glitter too.

I apologized, but he assured me that it was okay.

When I got home and looked at my jewelry, I noticed that they had not fared well.  Instead of laying flat, they now twisted around unnaturally.

Take a look at them for yourself.  It would appear that someone, whether it was me, the Mr., or a neighbor, had run over the jewelry.

Sigh.

I’m kicking myself over what was a stupid mistake.  It’s as though Hurricane Michael is trying not to let me forget him.  As much as I’d like to put him in my rear view mirror, I’m finding that an impossible task.  Cat 5 hurricanes have that effect on people.

And so I’m sending you this letter.  Please let me know if you can repair my mangled bling.  It would mean a lot to me; this is one of my favorite sets.

Sincerely,

Auburnchick

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