Well... to begin with... we find ourselves kinda-sorta upside down again where our sleeping habits are concerned. We arose around 1000 hrs this morning, fired off the coffee pot and retreated to our bed, ostensibly for just enough time to allow the coffee pot to finish its magic. An hour later we awakened yet again to semi-fresh-brewed coffee. After pouring our first cup we began to make the rounds of our Daily Reads.... which we did NOT finish, on account of because we had an appointment at 1400 hrs today for our periodic cleaning and dental check-up. Which is the source of today's not-inconsiderable angst.
Before we get too deep into the whining... it helps to know the edge was taken off by the fact that we launched Happy Hour directly upon our return from Dr. Thompson's Dental Palace, after spending nearly two hours therein. And this prompts a minor digression... about which: I'm thinking I (a) should have stayed in school and (b) pursued a career path that involved dentistry, rather than the profession of arms and information technology, as a follow-on career. Why? Regard:
The above is an illustration blatantly purloined from the Good Doctor's web site. In what other career field would one be able to surround himself with visions of beauty such as depicted above? I can't think of another example, but I AM open to suggestion. Which, of course, is not to say that I didn't have the opportunity to associate myself with beautiful women in MY chosen fields... it's just that said opportunities were rare. And to top it all off, Dr. Thmpson's distaff staff are truly great people, aside from being classic "lookers." End of digression.
Back to the whining. I got the usual and customary dose of "good news, bad news" during today's visit. The bad news? I'm in danger of losing yet another tooth, this time one of the teeth that anchors a bridge I've had for about eight years or so. This is bad news, indeed, as said bridge contains our three front teeth, which are critical for doing things like eating apples or gnawing on barbecued ribs. The good news is that tooth may yet be saved, albeit at "a certain cost." Further bad news is that although the tooth may be saved in the short run the longer term prognosis is not good... which means I'll have to pop for more implants three or four years down the road. Aiiieeee...
But. We remain accepting and philosophical about our fate after four beers. We 're also grateful that (a) we have the wherewithal to defray these sorts of expenses (even after absorbing significant hits to the 401(k) during the latest economic crisis, which has left us listing significantly to port yet still afloat) and (b) we live in America, where there are solutions to such problems beyond yanking all your teeth out and forcing one to subsist on gruel forever thereafter. Further... I find comfort in the fact that although I have the "bad teeth" gene (or I lack the "good teeth" gene), things could be worse. I could have the "fall over dead from a heart attack at age 53" gene. Or I could face the constant struggle with the "I'm too fat" gene and its fall-out. One must count one's blessings, no?
On the other hand... we had plans to spend our retirement money in other pursuits, such as opportunities to contract exotic social diseases in equally exotic climes while destroying our liver with indigenous alcohol (mmm... Singha! and Mekong!). Thailand comes to mind (see the foregoing), as do certain Central American destinations (mmm... tequila! and pulque!). We also had envisioned passing on what was left after said peccadilloes were done to our offspring upon our demise, making them instant hundredaires... or, best case, thousandaires. But, Hey! "The best laid plans..." and all that.
On the other, other hand, I'm gratified to learn that one can, indeed, "take it with you" when one leaves this mortal coil... if only in the form of really cool dental prostheses. Ya takes what ya gets...
Before we get too deep into the whining... it helps to know the edge was taken off by the fact that we launched Happy Hour directly upon our return from Dr. Thompson's Dental Palace, after spending nearly two hours therein. And this prompts a minor digression... about which: I'm thinking I (a) should have stayed in school and (b) pursued a career path that involved dentistry, rather than the profession of arms and information technology, as a follow-on career. Why? Regard:
The above is an illustration blatantly purloined from the Good Doctor's web site. In what other career field would one be able to surround himself with visions of beauty such as depicted above? I can't think of another example, but I AM open to suggestion. Which, of course, is not to say that I didn't have the opportunity to associate myself with beautiful women in MY chosen fields... it's just that said opportunities were rare. And to top it all off, Dr. Thmpson's distaff staff are truly great people, aside from being classic "lookers." End of digression.Back to the whining. I got the usual and customary dose of "good news, bad news" during today's visit. The bad news? I'm in danger of losing yet another tooth, this time one of the teeth that anchors a bridge I've had for about eight years or so. This is bad news, indeed, as said bridge contains our three front teeth, which are critical for doing things like eating apples or gnawing on barbecued ribs. The good news is that tooth may yet be saved, albeit at "a certain cost." Further bad news is that although the tooth may be saved in the short run the longer term prognosis is not good... which means I'll have to pop for more implants three or four years down the road. Aiiieeee...
But. We remain accepting and philosophical about our fate after four beers. We 're also grateful that (a) we have the wherewithal to defray these sorts of expenses (even after absorbing significant hits to the 401(k) during the latest economic crisis, which has left us listing significantly to port yet still afloat) and (b) we live in America, where there are solutions to such problems beyond yanking all your teeth out and forcing one to subsist on gruel forever thereafter. Further... I find comfort in the fact that although I have the "bad teeth" gene (or I lack the "good teeth" gene), things could be worse. I could have the "fall over dead from a heart attack at age 53" gene. Or I could face the constant struggle with the "I'm too fat" gene and its fall-out. One must count one's blessings, no?
On the other hand... we had plans to spend our retirement money in other pursuits, such as opportunities to contract exotic social diseases in equally exotic climes while destroying our liver with indigenous alcohol (mmm... Singha! and Mekong!). Thailand comes to mind (see the foregoing), as do certain Central American destinations (mmm... tequila! and pulque!). We also had envisioned passing on what was left after said peccadilloes were done to our offspring upon our demise, making them instant hundredaires... or, best case, thousandaires. But, Hey! "The best laid plans..." and all that.
On the other, other hand, I'm gratified to learn that one can, indeed, "take it with you" when one leaves this mortal coil... if only in the form of really cool dental prostheses. Ya takes what ya gets...
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