Hours

I imagine we've all been in love. Can you picture what it's like to be terribly in love, and all you have is a few hours?

- The Moth Radio Hour

Breaking point

We all have a breaking point. And we never know until we're faced with that situation what that breaking point actually is.

- The Moth Radio Hour

Sisterly birthday bickering

Day of birth

My birthday was over the weekend.

The following things happened:

- A really old, really drunk, really creepy guy touched my butt in a bar on Saturday night. I thought getting drunk by yourself at bars was something people did in movies, but apparently people do it in real life, too.

I never get the good ones. Never. Always the losers.

- On my actual birthday, I picked up dog poop and then mowed my yard. Then I took a nap.

I'm very exciting these days.

Personal preferences

I'm almost a year into this home ownership thing.

I'm slowly learning what I like and what I don't like.

Things I don't like include words on my walls. Pinterest is hard to look at sometimes. I'm just not a person who needs the words 'Hope' or 'Dream' or 'Wish' on my walls.

I had a 'Hope' sign in college. In the middle of graduating and job hunting in the greatest recession in some time, I hid the sign on the bottom of a box and never looked at it again.

I'm just not a words on the wall kind of a girl.

And I certainly don't need it on my pillows, either.

What I do like:

These bookshelves (and House, too)

And this DIY light:

Almost 31.

The other day I ripped some threads off of a scarf I had hanging up. I thought I threw the wad of thread in my trash can in my bathroom.

It turns out that I missed.

The next time I was in the bathroom, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a wad of something. It was huge, and looked like it had legs.

OH MY GOD IT'S A SPIDER.

I'm almost 31 years old, but when I see spiders, I tend to act half my age.

I screamed like a 15-year-old girl.

It turns out, that spider was just that wad of thread, sitting next to the trash can.

Did I mention I'm almost 31, and I own my own car and house?

That is one very loved, very important mouse.

A little birdie told me recently that my nieces have been working on saying prayers at night.

(That birdie might be my brother.)

When my 2-year-old nieces stayed with me on Saturday night, I wanted to continue their prayer time.

As we were getting ready for bed, I told them we need to thank God for a few things. We thanked God for having a good Mommy and Daddy, for good grandparents, cousins and uncles. We also thanked God for the rain.

I asked them to think really hard about what they were thankful for. Who do you really like in life, girls? Who do you want to pray for?

Their answer: "Ma Mouse!"

In case you're not fluent in toddler, "Ma Mouse" means Mickey Mouse.

Yes, you read that right. The coolest 2-year-olds I know just thanked God for Mickey Mouse.

I guess that makes sense if you're a toddler.

I tried to not laugh at them. I told them that yes, we need to thank God for Mickey Mouse. And then I said the only other thing I could think of.

"Amen."

That is one very loved, very important mouse.

I laughed in my kitchen for a very long time after they finally fell asleep.

Kids are awesome.

All of the things

After sleeping exactly 0 hours on Saturday night, I benadryled myself to sleep at around 9 p.m. last night.

It was glorious.

I woke up this morning to a pleasant surprise. Well, two actually. One was a little black dog who apparently cuddled with me sometime during the night, without permission. She's too cute to get mad at.

The other surprise is that I feel no pain whatsoever. I can open my mouth all of the way, too. After a few days of misery, my mouth was like, oh hey, now I remember I'm supposed to heal.

That means for the first time in about a week, I can basically eat whatever I want to.

Which means, I'm going to eat ALL OF THE THINGS.

Things I've actually said today

Do we throw pizza?

Don't put the dog food in the dog water.

Don't throw the dog food in the trash can.

Don't feed the dog play dough.

The dog is going to have blue poop tomorrow.

What happened to your pants?

Context: My 2-year-old nieces are the coolest toddlers I know.

Sharp stabby things

First, I have to start this post off with the fact that I'm listening to "Pillowtalk" on Spotify.

I'm too old to admit this, but I really freaking love this song.

So, there's that.

Now, let's talk about yesterday (Thursday).

On Wednesday night, I was nervous. I slept three hours that night. I was so worried about over-sleeping for my dentist appointment at 10:45 a.m. that was 2.5 hours away that I woke up at 3 a.m. and never went back to sleep.

Needless to say, I made it there on time.

Now, let me explain something to you. I have one tooth in my mouth that is very, very difficult to numb. I have no idea why, but it's been like that for years. That poor tooth has had a filling in it since high school, and I always cringed when my old dentist worked on it. It could never, ever, not even once, get numb.

Fast forward a few years, and I know now that the tooth is possible to numb. But it's kind of like expecting a certain little black Pug to not poop in her kennel, play in it, and then jump all over me on my lunch break when I have food in my hand. (My lunch break today sucked.)

Yeah it's possible, but it's not likely to happen.

Again, I was really nervous about this tooth. But sometimes you have to put your adult pants on and deal with your problems, even if they hurt.

For those of you with normal teeth, an endodontist is a dentist who specializes in root canals. I first went to my endodontist in 2009 after my dentist could not numb a tooth that he said "was the easiest tooth in my mouth to numb."

I remember the first appointment I had with my endodontist seven years ago. I told him my dentist couldn't numb that tooth. I was young, dumb, and I assumed because my dentist could not numb it, the tooth would never get numb for anyone.

That wasn't the case! The endodontist, in total boss mode, numbed that tooth easily. It didn't even phase him that some whiny girl was concerned about not getting numb. I've been a big fan of him ever since.

I respect a lot of the decisions that he's has made for me over the years. In 2012, I went to him because I thought I needed a root canal.

I sat there forever during the root canal. An assistant came in the room, looked in my mouth, said "Oh, it's s two-fer" and left.

He did two root canals on me, without telling me I was getting the second one. On Halloween, nonetheless.

After the appointment, he sat me up, said something like, "I made the best decision for your health, regardless of money" and told me I could make payments to him.

I didn't have time to ask him questions. That was that.

I thought about being offended, but then I thought of what he told me: "I made the best decision for your health."

What was I supposed to say? How dare you? No, that would not have been nice.

It took me six months to pay that off. It worked out. He got his money, I got to make affordable payments and he got a patient for life...or until I run out of teeth.

Win-win.

Two years later, I was in a world of hurt, both literally and figuratively. I still to this day don't understand what happened, but all I know is that I went to him for a second opinion.

When he looked at the x-rays, he started cussing.

If you cuss at me in the first sentence you talk to me, I'm going to like you instantly.

I like people who don't sugarcoat the truth.

During a pre-root canal pep talk a few weeks later, he told me: "You need to know there are good dentists in the world."

Like I said, I respect a lot of the decisions he's made for me over the years. I've had several 3.5 hour appointments with him. In the end, it usually turns out okay, meaning I generally get to keep the teeth that he works on.

(When you're young and you get a root canal, you worry about money. When you get root canals as you age, your concern shifts from money to 'Can I save this tooth?' It sucks when you spend money trying to save a tooth that isn't savable. Trust me.)

Yesterday, the appointment was only an hour and a half. Compared to past appointments, that's nothing. I should have been able to handle it.

But that stupid tooth has always been tricky to numb. And I was nervous and didn't sleep well. I knew it wouldn't be good.

I told him that right away that the tooth is really, really hard to numb. Honesty is a good policy, especially when it comes to people who bring sharp stabby things into your face on a somewhat regular basis.

After the first two shots, they put a rubber dam on me and he got to work. Except, I wasn't numb. Not even close.

Okay, the first two shots didn't work.

He worked on me some more, and I felt all of it. It went on for a while. He took the rubber dam off, then got kind of stab happy all over my face.

This one is going to sting, he'd tell me.

This isn't going to feel good.

You're going to feel this one.

He was right on all accounts.

Finally, he got stab happy on the left side of my face, near my ear. I don't know anything about teeth, or nerves, or science or biology and anything that takes intelligence to understand, but that was the shot that did the trick.

He said something like, "That finally worked."

I had my eyes shut the entire time. I thought I was done. I thought Jesus Christ, that root canal is finally over. I want to go home and sleep.

It turns out, he meant the shot finally worked and I was numb. The root canal hadn't even started yet.

As I was sitting there, slobbering all over my face in front of multiple people, I thought about telling my endodontist to give up. Maybe I could be put under for it somewhere else, or maybe it's not even worth saving and needs to be pulled instead.

In a moment of panic, I turned to him. (Moving your head without permission is a pretty big deal. I'm a rebel.) I asked him if not getting numb was normal.

He didn't hesitate to answer me.

"It's normal for you," he told me.

Then he kept on keeping on, and went about his business.

"It's normal for you" is now a quote that I'll remember for a very long time, much like "You need to know there are good dentists in the world" and "I made the best decision for your health, regardless of money."

It's normal, for you.

I'm not sure why I asked the question to begin with. The last thing you want to hear when something isn't exactly going as planned is, "Of course you're not normal, you stupid freak."

It's normal, for you, is a very good answer to my question.

Oh, I thought. Okay. I'm just going to keep slobbering all over myself until you tell me I'm good to go.

By the way, the never-ending cycle of suck that is my mouth involves pain that causes nausea. Which, is a nice way to say that after I left the appointment, I gagged a lot while driving home. I also threw up (not in my car, thankfully).

There is no grace or dignity in this process, but there are people who treat you with grace and dignity throughout the process.

I'll take it.

Note: I love writing just as much as I love Pugs, reading, and the words ought and might. I keep track (write about) my tooth disasters, but I don't tend to share any of them. I'd like to think that when I die, someone is going to find that document on my laptop and have a good laugh at my (dead) expense. This will be the latest entry in that document. While I have no intention of sharing everything I've been through, in life, in health or otherwise, I don't think sharing this will hurt anyone. Plus, it's kind of fun to read about stuff if you've never gone through it before.

Another note: BRUSH AND FLOSS YOUR FACE, FOLKS.

Whatever doesn't kill me

From The Moth podcast:

"Whatever doesn't kill me just hurts me even more."

Context: There's a tooth in my mouth that is very, very hard to numb. Said tooth had a root canal yesterday.

Again: "Whatever doesn't kill me just hurts me even more."

Personal preferences

I'm almost a year into this home ownership thing.

I'm slowly learning what I like and don't like, little by little.

What I definitely don't like: Words on my walls. Pinterest is becoming a nightmare to look at. I don't want have 'Hope' or 'Dream' or 'Wish' on my walls. I also certainly don't need it on my pillows, either.

Teamwork makes the dream work?

Oh, please.

What I do like:

These bookshelves (I like House, too)

And this DIY light

Houses

The other night, I fell asleep with my bedroom window open.

It was a little cool for it, but I decided to go for it anyway. I think one of the definitions of happiness is falling asleep on a night listening to the wind chimes on your front porch.

My dogs and I slept really well that night.

There are things about my house that I don't like. I can never keep shelves free of dust. I have to open two doors to let the dogs out. My fence stinks.

But, there are also things that I like about it. I love how cute my oldest dog looks on Saturdays as she strolls out into the living room, looks at me, yawns, then goes back to sleep beside me for a little bit.

Pugs, as it turns out, look really adorable in old houses with beautiful woodwork.

I'm still learning to get used to the weird house noises, especially at night. Last night, my blind dog started throwing a fit and barking.

I heard whatever she heard, too. I told her she was a good girl. She went back to sleep.

I have no idea what the noise was that we heard.

I might be in my 30s, I might have a full-time job, a paid off car, and a mortgage under my name, but I still get a little creeped out at sounds at night.

Don't get me started about walking through my house when it's dark at night.

This is not my dog, but I thought it was funny.

In a pickle

Pickles the Bug got promoted to a real dog today.

She got to spend the afternoon out of her kennel.

She looks sorry for eating my couch, using my house as her bathroom, and tearing up toilet paper for no good reason, right?

We'll see what my house looks like in a few hours.

Sick and tired

Borrowing someone else's words right now:

http://thebloggess.com/2013/10/where-i-am-right-now/

I should be relieved that I have the resources to diagnose and maybe fix the problems, but today I'm just sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I can't find a way to end this paragraph.

This is 30

A conversation I had recently:

Me: I have a lot of space in my house, but it's all really stupid space. I loved those built ins when I looked at the house. They were beautiful! Now all I do is dust them and they're always dirty.

Friend: I loved my pedestal sink when I looked at this house. It's so pretty! Now I'm like, "There's no fucking storage in here!"

On my nerves

The pain scale, when it comes to teeth, is not 1 to 10.

It's more like 1 to OH MY GOD WHY DO I HAVE A FACE? I WANT TO JUMP OFF A CLIFF.

Yesterday I was looking over the side of the cliff, thinking about jumping off. I also kind of wanted to kill everyone.

Today, I'm a mile away from the cliff, lounging around, smiling and laughing.

Life is stupid like that.

Having dying nerve in your face is not something I recommend, especially if it's only a month after you last had a dying nerve in your face.

My teeth are little assholes.

On a sidenote, I gave a new pharmacy a try this week.

I love it!

They called me a few days ago and asked me a few questions. As in, I talked to an actual human being! And they answered my questions and were nice to me!

That's big, people.

I think that's going to turn out to be one of the better decisions I've made.