Most accessories are an annoyance to me, even those with function beyond adornment. I do wear necklaces, as I can't see them and typically lose awareness of a thin chain or beaded strand. My eyeglasses, which I need for screen-staring and book-reading, often end up perched atop my skull or dangling between clenched teeth after I finish a chapter or power down my machine. No sense in putting glass between me and my Hitchens essay, I'd rather hold the magazine so close it becomes wet from my breath.
Many rings I've abandoned: a filigree spoon ring that tattooed my twelve year old finger moss green, a gold ring with my birthstone in a perfectly circular setting like a drop of dew, a sterling silver braided vine to celebrate my confirmation. I tried to train myself to commit to each, like a habit learned or broken.
Of course, they got in my way. They were removed every time I needed to "do something", with eating, sleeping, showering, driving, writing, and typing falling under that umbrella. But on Saturday, Nick gave me a ring and I put it on my fourth finger and I think I may just never take it off.