The Magnetic Bracelet

Yep, that's a vintage metal doll chair.  I barely brushed it as I was turning from the door.

Yep, that’s a vintage metal doll chair. I barely brushed it as I was turning from the door.

I described here how my annual Christmas and birthday gifts to J.Hooligan are rib dinners at Montgomery Inn. In return, J. gives some very interesting, thoughtful presents. (He’s a good gift-giver in general to everyone, always considering his selections carefully. Unlike S.Hooligan, who has to be dragged out to a store to shop and may or may not try to pick out something the recipient will like. Example: She was determined to buy me Donald Trump’s latest book for Christmas; Diamondqueen finally got through to her where I’d be sticking that book when I unwrapped it.)

This year J.Hooligan did all his Christmas shopping at the Loveland craft fair the first weekend of  November. For me he picked out a really neat handmade bracelet of various stones, primarily magnetic hematite beads. The bracelet is supposed to help with a number of afflictions, including something as chronic as simple muscle pains. It’s a lovely, understated bracelet, and I was really happy to get it.

Then I discovered how truly magnetic it is. First thing, Diamondqueen warned me not to wear it while operating the new Kindle Fire she and That Poor Man had given me. (I forgot once on Christmas Day, but I’ve been careful since.) However, what really brought the power of the bracelet home was when I started randomly attracting things to my wrist.

On Christmas Day, while serving myself a plate of dinner, I drew a cake turner right out of the silverware holder. It didn’t drop off; it hung there like a humongous charm with a thyroid condition. Later, I stuck to the metal house door to the garage as I came in from giving Addie a ride.

Over the next few days I: had a fork lock onto my wrist at City Barbecue; kept sticking to the metal display racks at Michael’s while I was looking for bargains; had my wrist sucked to the side of the bathtub while I was going to the bathroom. The topper was when I turned from letting Addie out into the backyard and managed to drag off one of the metal chairs from a vintage doll set that sits on the cabinet by the door. (See the accompanying photo–that is one strong bracelet!)

We weren’t entirely sure, but Mom and I wondered if the bracelet was interfering with the battery in the garage door opener when I’d reach my right hand up to press the button. It got moody on us, sometimes not raising the door after several tries. Mom suggested I should take off the bracelet before using the door opener, just in case.

I still wear the bracelet, but carefully. A couple of nights ago I decided to wear it when I couldn’t get to sleep. (I’d slept beautifully with it on the night before.) I reached for it in the dark atop the chest I keep next to my bed, but the bracelet was stuck fast to something. When I realized I was pulling at the metal base of the bedside lamp, I turned on the light. The bracelet also was covered with several miniature bottle brush trees; I’d grouped them there as I was taking down Christmas decorations to put away.

I guess I’d better be careful where and how I wear that bracelet. I wouldn’t want to be pledging allegiance and have a knife come careening toward my heart.

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