It’s that Time of Year and More Dental Stuff

by Bella Rum

Thunderstorm season has begun in earnest. We enjoyed a nasty cell last night that left my friend, who lives across town, without power. The winds were pretty bad, but it could have been worse. H and I were luckier than my friend. We didn’t lose power. We get some pretty severe thunderstorms here. We seem to be in a corridor that attracts powerful summer storms.

In the upper eighties and nineties, the temps are only toying with us, but they promise not to disappoint later this week. With a lame attempt at proper grimness (because you know they secretly love it), our meteorologists predict 104 temps and righteous thunderstorms later this week.

The thing I most hate about storms is the loss of power, more specifically, the loss of communications. We’ve become so accustomed to immediate information. I can’t stand the feeling of isolation that comes with power outages – occasionally for days. I loved it when I was a kid. My mother would get the candles and kerosene lanterns out. I felt like I was in one of those black&white horse operas that Dad and The Brother watched so often on television.

In other news…

I went to the dentist again yesterday. This is my regular dentist. I thought it was going to be simple, but no, no. She was only supposed to get the impression for the crown for the “root canal tooth.” What could be simpler? Right?Β  Then she said, “I may as well fill this little cavity in the neighboring tooth.” [Insert scary music here.]

The neighboring tooth had a crown on it, and the little cavity turned out to be a hideous monster. She removed the crown and did whatever dentists do. It took longer than the root canal. I was in the chair an hour and forty-five minutes. The best thing about it was that I suffered no anxiety the day and night leading up to it. Why? Because I had no idea “it” was going to happen.

After the entire ordeal was over, they added insult to injury by giving me my tally. 800 smackaroos! That was more painful than the hour and forty-five minutes in the chair.

I promise to stop sharing my dental misery… soon. It’s almost over.