Monday: During half-hour battle with 3-year-old son to get him to take Tylenol, he states with all the petulant, serious anger he has in his little body that the whole idea was "Tartar sauce!" (Toddler-friendly expletive courtesy of SpongeBob SquarePants).
Tuesday: Third ice storm of the month hits Iowa on the same day that Aunt Flo's Second Day Hemmorrhage floods my underpants. Bubba's still sick, so it's me and him, along with Manny, Sid and Diego (from Ice Age); Peter Pan, Wendy and "the Injuns" (have you watched this movie recently? Wow.); and SpongeBob, Patrick, Squidward and Gary for approximately 9 hours. Tree branch in backyard cracks just moments before my own sanity does same.
Wednesday: Morning with Bubba (still sick) and then on to the endodontist. LilCherie and I share the same endodontist who has a stunningly bad bedside manner but has the magic hands with the root canals. I am in his office for literally five minutes. He looks at the x-ray sent over by my dentist, puts an ice cube on my tooth, I say "Ow," and he says, "Yep, needs a root canal." For that, I am charged $60. If you break it down, he earned $12 for each minute I sat in his chair. I guess that's cheap compared to the approximately $40 per minute he gets for the actual root canal. Luckily the procedure can wait until after the first of the year, since I've already maxed out my dental coverage on this year's root canal/crown/pulp cap follies.
On my way back from that appointment, I stop at a convenience store for smokes. I am musing at the hillbilly who's ringing me up -- he's a hefty guy, with a lot of erratic facial hair and eyes that go in two different directions -- when suddenly one of his eyes seems to focus at something behind me and he says, "Hey. Ah laak that hat." I turn my head and there's an older guy behind me wearing a baseball cap emblazoned with a Confederate flag. "Yeah, me too," says the hat-wearer. "Ah'm a proud and true Tennessean!" Hillbilly cashier says, "Yep. Ah'm frum Kentucky." Luckily I get away before I overhear them talkin' 'bout the ole fashion lynchin' goin' on down at Redneck Corner at sundown! Christ!
Stay tuned for more excitement, as tonight I am going to my stylist for the first haircut I've had in about a year and a half or something like that. I've been putting it off because I have trichotillomania, and have been pulling a lot lately, leaving a couple of nasty bald spots on the top of my head. I've come clean with my guy, and he's really cool about it, but still...it's like having someone examining your freakitude.
What a trip.
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6 comments:
You crack me up, Depressionista. It pains me to laugh at the trials & tribulations you explain in this entry, but damn, girl, the manner in which you describe it all is just too funny. I'm glad you're back blogging. (I think this is my first post, which I do because I know how much you love getting comments and I couldn't just lurk without you knowing about it...)
I agree, you crack me up too!
I pull my hair out too, but I've never told anyone about it except my shrink. (And now you, and, uh, the entire internet.) Bravo to you for telling your stylist!
And ugh, endodontists. I've had many root canals and they all suck.
Funny hat story, even if slightly disturbing. My hairstylist hears all about my strangeness. Poor guy.
i love the word freakitude...thanks for that!
we had 5 pukes last night from 2 out of 3 of the almost three year olds here.
funny thing is, one was trying to tell me he was sick too but i didn't believe him because they always wake up in the night saying, "i'm sick! i need medicine (tylenol)!"
and on the hat tip? you don't sound like you're from around there...
My hairdresser IS my therapist I think. Really, this is the best way to work things.
Ouch on the root canal. I hate them, and won't do them anymore since mine tend to crack and fail. Instead, I just get the tooth pulled and get an implant instead. Not cheap but compared to the repeat root canals---it almost comes out even. And no horrible side effects on my sinuses anymore.
Anyway, this will work out okay in the end. Take some meds...it will all look better in the morning.
You are such a gifted story-teller! Even though I know these things were trying, you tell the tales in such a hilarious way!
Hey, I didn't know you got a haircut - was it Shawn? I need one bad, the long hair thing is getting annoying.
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