Monday

Oct, 22, 2001

dental work or work?

It's a sad commentary when dental work or real work seems a toss up. Not really. I love my job. Really.

It's the numbing, drilling, oops-not-quite-numb, dribbling kind of dentist appointment. And it lasts well over two hours. But it's the last one of that ilk I'll have to have for a while. So that, at least, is good. A good thing. I won't have to be numb for the seating of the new crowns. And the cleaning they'll do then won't be bad either. I get to pay a bunch of money for the privilege of the numbing and discomfort. But I have the money and I'll soon have a re-conditioned mouth and my insurance even paid for some of it. I'm one lucky kid.

My dentist carries on one side of a conversation. Because my mouth is full of instruments. He talks about his kids, an older movie he just saw (When Harry Met Sally), the latest news from the terrorist deal, the fact that New Yorkers suddenly resent Hillary. I think of things to say in response like a normal conversation. But, of course, I never get to say them. When he's almost done, he goes out to get a coffee and offers me one and I accept, my teeth hard against the plastic goop getting an impression, making hand signals to get it black.

I decide to skip work today all together and just go home and be numb until I feel like eating. I do a little work via e-mail. I promise myself that I'll be a working machine tomorrow. As it is, I have to deal with some salesperson on the phone, answer some tough questions, etc. I have so many disparate things to consider in my job that I always feel like I deal poorly with all of them.

When evening comes, the Urban Adventurers go out and scour our same boring neighborhood again. We decide to go to Fonda after putting our dogs away.

Dinner is pleasant. I'd eaten nachos when my numbness ended in the afternoon so I wasn't very hungry. I ate ceviche and spinach salad and it tasted great. We drank a Ramspeck Pinot. FFP had the 1999 and said it was great and glorious. And all gone, I guess. This was 2000, but still good.

Home again, I was a slug. I tried to pay attention to Third Watch as the fictional characters encountered September 11. I tried to read. I hunted up today's New York Times and worked the crossword. My favorite Monday thing. Back to normal. Whatever that is. But I'm drowsy, still in a up early, bed early mode influenced by the time at GMT+1.

how much is that pasta in the window?

pig in Piazza della Signoria

"Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace..."

John Lennon, "Imagine"

Meta:
We'll just be keeping Lennon's radical lyrics here indefinitely. I'm almost up to the point of updating in, more or less, real time.

JUST TYPING
The drill.
The dentist.
Concentrates your attention.
Until you ignore your plight.
And float away.