In the Dentist’s Chair

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I’m an idiot.

I haven’t been a regular visitor to the dentist, and I probably wouldn’t have gone if the cap on my front tooth not fallen off and ended up in my sandwich.

Biting it a couple of times left it mangled and chipped…

…but I had to wait a while to get some work done on it.

Yesterday was the day.

At my first appointment my new dentist a couple of weeks before, he asked if I was an author. Not sure how he knew, but I confirmed it.

“I want a book,” he said, with a laugh.

I brought him one yesterday, and he looked it over before he started up his drill.

He numbed up my face and then I spent about 40 minutes in that chair getting set up for a new tooth.

Couple of things:

It was late in the afternoon and I was laying down - felt relaxed.

Also, I kept thinking of the news of the day.

I have taken the Wednesday flight home from Wichita, Kansas.

It always stops in D.C.

Had I decided to check Kansas sites this week…

…I would’ve been on that flight.

And I kept thinking about those people who lost their lives, and my heart hurt more than my stupid mouth.

You know what made matters worse?

The reaction to it by the so-called king.

Just horrible.

I’m not even going to mention it because it was simply nonsensical and troubling.

Blame.

Nastiness.

Just what we need in a bad moment.

“Don’t eat or drink anything for at least two hours,” they told me on the way out.

January has been a real mother.

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