A bad case of real life interference
Poor Mr. D. He went skiing for the long holiday weekend, only to come home to bad news: His mom is in the hospital. He won’t be able to find out any updates on her until tomorrow morning, and in the meantime, he’s exhausted AND he has pink-eye to boot. Even if things stabilize with his mother, there’s no way he could make it tomorrow, not with pink-eye, as it’s incredibly contagious. (As he put it, that’s not the pink he wants to give me.)
Real life has a way of blowing in various degrees on occasion. This week, it’s high on the blowage meter.
I got myself to the dentist today, after barely sleeping last night. Turns out I was afraid for nothing, because nothing happened. Yet. Basically, I have a tooth with a nerve that’s either going bad or it isn’t. It could just be inflamed (for months, though??), but it could also be dying. Only time will tell. Meanwhile, it’s not to the stage yet where it needs a root canal, so I just have to live with it until it goes either way. There’s no infection. He told me to take Advil twice a day for several days, to see if it does anything for the inflammation/dull pain. This guy is an expert on root canals — that’s ALL he does — so if he says no, not yet, I believe him.
So I have a tooth that, at any time, could become an emergency. Isn’t that swell! I’m glad I don’t have to do that procedure just now, but it seems like I’ll have to eventually, and you know it won’t be at a convenient time.
At least the traffic wasn’t bad, thanks to the MLK holiday. I used my phone’s GPS to navigate the unfamiliar streets and it helped (although I was giggling at how it pronounced Normandie as “nor-MON-die”). I wonder if the uber-techy, sophisticated car GPS systems pronounce things better?
We saw my stepdad over the weekend. It was a nice visit; we took him out and had a pleasant dinner. But he’s so very feeble now. He uses a cane or a walker, his legs are like sticks and he’s all rounded over. His mind still works, but he does forget things and repeat stories. I suppose at nearly 95, he gets a pass on that. Poor guy. He misses my mother. He misses a lot of things.
I’m out of work again. Had a busy few weeks, but I’m quite the efficient little bee and I finished everything. Sooooo. No work, and no play. Erica is a dull and cranky girl.
So, since I have nothing further of interest to post at the moment, I’ll end with a photo question. Does anyone recognize this picture, where it’s from? I’m 99 9/10% positive that the woman is Samantha Woodley. But who is the man? I love after-care shots like this. 🙂
Any guesses? Chross? Anyone?