Now that I’m a year older in people years, but in my imaginary brain years I’m at least 10 years younger and wear a princess tiara, whoops… too many ibuprofen, I feel it is necessary that I become more adult like and start pulling out teeth more often. So, on my actual birthday, I scheduled an appointment with a dentist to have a tooth root dug out. I don’t know what I was thinking… in my head I was sure it would be a 10-minute event and then I’d be home eating a steak and par-taying to my geezer heart’s content. Negative on the steak… I haven’t gone that far in my once-a-week-meat-eating adventures. Keep the cowbells in the pasture, please! The truth of the matter, the day before when I was dutifully brushing my teeth, the dead tooth that I knew I was supposed to have had pulled out for a couple of months before that just broke off. Like literally broke all the way off down to the base, leaving three stems of roots stuck up in my gum. Quality. So, due to the fact that I had a horrid taste in my mouth from the rotting tooth and also the fact that we were heading into a weekend (apparently most dentist offices do not work on Friday… or Saturday or Sunday), I only had one choice for a day to get it pulled out… Thursday, my birthday. But that didn’t matter because it would only be a 10-minute affair and unicorns and gumdrops would fall from the ceiling as I galloped out into the world at the completion.
Ninety minutes later, after enduring several drillings into my gum bones and digging with some doo hickey with a sharp tip, and after almost biting off the dentist’s fingers 12 times, I was crawling out of the dentist on hands and knees bleeding out the corners of my mouth. See what a quality picture I paint for appetizing lunch hour purposes? Who wants tomater soup for dinner!? Blast you gum drop molar forest! Blast you! Also, Berger gene tooth issues… BLAST YOU!! Meanwhile I’m pretty sure I’ve developed dry socket, having experienced the pleasantness of the dry socket when I got my wisdom teeth removed, I know the symptoms… which means packing the dried out socket with a nasty-tasting clove mixture and many months of severe pain are in my future. BUT… on the bright side… if for Christmas I want hot Wassail… all I’d have to do is pour hot water into my mouth and swish it around with the clove mixture pack. Voila! Insta-nastiness!
But, back to the topic… Fall… Fall is my favorite! It should just stay fall until March and then go directly to Spring… think about it Mother Nature… that’s all I ask!
Totes my deer friends…