I sort of work with this lovely WASP gal named Staci. I don't know exactly what she does, but I see her at the copier from time to time. We chat idly about things like how crowded New Year's Eve in Aspen has become, and how much we both liked vacationing in Bermuda.
(I've been to each of those places once. She goes once every few years.)
Staci has lived in the Western Connecticut area her whole life. She's my age, blonde, about a size four, and shops at Bloomingdales. She was polite enough once to ask where I was from. I told her about Springfield (Nowhere near Chicago, mostly protestant, lots of country music) and about living in Queens (No, I was never mugged). She seemed sorry she'd asked. She did enjoy hearing about my wedding plans though, and was full of ideas for favors, such as Mikasa crystal candleholders or donations to a charity in the guest's names, or have you seen those mini-cakes that Vosges does?
At the copier today:
Staci: Where's your engagement ring?
Me: uh... in my change purse.
Staci: WHY is it in your change purse!?
Me: Well, I had a client last night. When I massage, I have to take off my ring, so I usually just slip it into my changepurse for safekeeping. I went directly to the spa after work, and then after the massage I went straight home. I was so tired that I went straight to bed, and then this morning when I got up, I was very rushed, so I told myself I'd put it back on when I got to the office. But ever since I got in this morning, I've been so busy, I haven't gotten around to putting it back on.
Staci: So Your Tiffany's platinum-and-diamond ring is still in your changepurse.
Me: Yeah, overnight! (How did she know it was Platinum? Or Tiffany?)
Staci: Hanging out with all those lesser metals!
Me: Ahh... yeah... (nervous laughter)
Staci: Sort of like when you lived in Queens?