Blatheringly on about my life

Once again I found myself staring into those space age goggles that the dentist wears and decided that today I would just go to sleep in the comfortable dentist’s chair – blue padded leather where you can wiggle into place and have your head supported as if by a heavenly cloud. (What the dentist does to you once you are there is not so heavenly.)

He was supposed to put an inlay on. Halfway through the procedure, while my mouth was wide open and blocked by something that they tell you is to help you rest your jaw but is in fact to prevent you from eating dentist fingers whilst he tortures you, he said “I guess we’re going to have to do a crown on this one.” I couldn’t tell from his laconic voice whether or not he was saying “Oops! I carved off too much while working and now the only way to fix it is a crown.” or “I really wanted to do a crown anyway, but this customer always wants the cheapest fix. I’ll get her to do an inlay and then half way in, announce that I couldn’t do otherwise; she’d have to have a crown.”

I really do feel that I’m paying single-handledly for this young hot shot dentist’s new fangled equipment.

What was I to say. “Grrrrnn”? My mouth was so propped that all I could do was throat grunts. There was nothing I could do about it anyway.

I had been delightfully entertaining myself with those beautifully coloured lights that I can see inside my eyelids that turn and squirm, constantly morphing into new abstract images like a kaleidescope while trying to ignore the dentist in his manipulations. These forms are especially lovely when you have a powerful dentist’s light blaring into your face. The colours shift up into a higher, brighter range of pure hues.

Suddenly the shapes began to look suspiciously like coloured dollar signs. I wondered how much more the crown was going to have to pay – especially since, with the inlay, I had exhausted what the dental plan would provide for the year. Sigh.

In the end, I had a good sleep stretched out on that chair while the dentist crafted the crown. He’s got a new technology that allows him to do this in his own office and he’s taken to the sculptural aspects of it. He sits behind my head happily sanding and carving until the overlay fits correctly. Only today, he sanded and carved a bit too much and went right through to the other side, producing an unacceptable hole in it. He had to make me a plastic temporary crown and I have to go back in next week.

I must say I had a rather nice rest for an hour and needed it because I’d had so little sleep the night before. The only real inconvenience was the freezing that was still preventing my tongue from using any of my verbal skills. It moved rather thickly after this two hour abortive attempt to crown me.

Remind me never to go in for the royal life. I’d end up with missing stones in the crown and receiving a concussion as the darned coronet landed on my head. Or maybe they’d just provide me with a plastic ersatz coronation device that would glitter and shine appropriately with crystal gem replacements, but wouldn’t matter if it were stolen or dropped from my head at any official event.

From the dentist’s chair, I proceeded to an equally comfortable dental hygienist’s chair.
“How do you like this chair compared to the dentist’s?” she asked.

“Just as comfortable,” I replied. “Why do you ask?”

“We’re thinking of changing this one. It’s out of date now. ”

Could have fooled me, I thought. It was just the same blue as the dentist’s; not quite as wide; just as comfy. No wonder he needed me to have a crown instead of an inlay.

She proceeded to lecture me on flossing. I’ve failed miserably, it seems, at this simple task of cupping the floss around a tooth and wiggling it up and down, not back and forth.

We exchanged a few pleasantries about her recent wedding with all the ethnic flash and dash that her and her husband’s family had provided, complete with a bright red dress bordered in gold and hennaed hand, feet and legs up just past her knees. The honeymoon in Cancun was wonderful and they had avoided the hurricane by just a few days.

I told her about my move and the vissitudes of my various moving adventures.

“You really need a cleaning before nine months, ” she said. “I know your plan doesn’t allow for it but …” She trailed off.

“Kerchunk, Kerchunk” I thought. “There goes another one hundred and fifty.”

I escaped that one, dashed back towards the car meanwhile looking for somewhere I could have a soft lunch that wouldn’t tear off my plastic crown and one that I could eat with a recalcitrant tongue just beginning to frizzle out its freezing.

I sat a Subway and ate a six inch sandwich whilst toying with a medium-difficulty Sudoku puzzle, ran into two former colleagues, then excused myself to dash again to another medical appointment to see if I had carpal tunnel syndrome developing.

Parking is getting so expensive that I spent twenty dollars just on parking lots. The hospital zapped my fingers and my elbows with electricity that translated into a graph on the computer monitor. The upshot was that the carpal tunnel indications are so minor that I have nothing to worry about, so I blithely skipped out of there and up to Hycroft where I can get a cup of coffee and a bit of conversation. I had something to drop off there and it was close by.

At six I drove to my mother’s house, hoping not to see Otto who has been awful to me lately. There’s nothing like a will and an estate to bring out a siblings true nature. I stopped by Safeway to pick up dinner since I wouldn’t ask him for anything, not even a cup of coffee, as things stand now. So armed with Cheesies and a cup of coffee for the road, I returned home.

He wasn’t there fortunately and I was able to load up another car load of paintings and miscellania. It’s sad to see the house being dismantled bit by bit.

Without my stewardship at my mother’s house, I found the living room occupied by a king size mattress tipped on its side. All the house plants were dying of thirst. I took them with me. I took the last vestiges of my paintings that were hanging on the wall with the exception of one too large for me to put in the car. There’s still lots for the mover to move.

I drove home in a glorious dusk steeped in a deep cerulean blue with orange blending at the horizon and enjoyed every minute of that flawless sky. By the time I reached home, it had morphed into a deep peacock blue with the cerulean replacing the orange down low.
My nephew was out, visiting in Vancouver so, when I entered, I found the house quiet and still. I took in the plants and left the rest for my nephew to unload tomorrow. Mrs. Stepford came over for a late cup of tea and we sat on the back porch listening to the tall cedars whisper and drank in the summer night air.

Later, I caught that very funny serial called “Arrested Development” then headed for bed. What more can you ask from a day? It was busy, interesting, moved forward a number of things I had to accomplished, and I was rewarded with a long a deep sleep.


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