Real Life 1:
We got a new computer--and a sleek and sexy beast it is, too--and we also bought an enclosure for our old hard drive, which means I've now got access to all the files I had potentially lost. Hurrah! No lost writing.
Real Life 2:
Although I could not possibly top the
I've never minded going to the dentist. You lie back in that comfy chair with a bright light shining on your face and it's almost as relaxing as lying on a beach--provided you can ignore having a stranger's hands in your mouth, which I can.
However, I had a molar break recently. This is the second one in a little over a year, which is disturbing for a person who has never had much trouble with her teeth before. Apparently it's due to old silver amalgum fillings, which eventually begin to flex. Unfortunately, your teeth aren't particularly flexible.
The dentist decided to put in a crown this time. The session that saw my original tooth filed to an itty-bitty stub and the temporary crown glued on was...less relaxing than lying on a beach, shall we say.
Apparently I have a muzzle. My jaw is small, yet long. It doesn't help that the freezing makes my muscles tighten up. Thank goodness my dentist has small hands, or she would have had to saw my jaw off and fix that damned tooth on the counter top instead. Regardless, I left the first session feeling manhandled, snivelling, and so numb I could barely speak.
This week, she tried to put in the permanent crown. Tried. Twice. She made a heroic attempt, I must admit. Then she put the temporary crown back on and informed me the lab had made a mistake and they would have to recast the crown. Thus, I left the second session manhandled, snivelling, so numb I could barely speak, and with nothing to show for it except another appointment.
As it happened, my regular check-up and cleaning was scheduled for the day after the permanent crown was supposed to go in. That went well except for the hygienist saying, "You've got a lot of recession. You really need to go to a periodontist and get gum grafts." Hmm; lovely. I've had those before. They are also not quite as relaxing as lying on the beach. Then the dentist came in and did her checkup and said, "You've got another tooth cracking. You'll need another crown in the next few years." Ooh, even better.
So now I've got another week of squishy foods, which isn't bad in that I'm using as justification for eating squishy foods I love, like humous and pesto sauce. I'm also not nearly as bad off as poor Travis, in that I can actually have things that require chewing, provided I chew gently and on the correct side of my mouth.
So are the dentists out to get me? I don't know, but they are getting a lot of insurance money out of me. Thank goodness they're all such lovely people, or I really would start dreading the dentist chair.
Oh, wait; I've still got that appointment on Friday to go through, don't I? *trembles*