See that dark cloud? The enormous black cloud that is covering the entire north shore? The one that shows up on the weather map and GPS satelites…yes that cloud.
That is Sweetman’s gloom cloud. It’s been gathering since Sunday because Sunday was the final episode in Series 1 of Masterpiece Mystery: Sherlock. So no more of this:
for a while which makes me uncharacteristically grumpy yet able to rebound in hopes that I’ll someday be watching new episodes of my beau. You know what they say about absence. My heart grows fonder every day…
But wait! The cloud is still there and getting bigger! What is it? What could possibly cause this dark demeanor?
In exactly one hour I will be sitting in an oral surgeon’s chair having my bottom wisdom teeth yanked out of my head.
I have talked them out of gassing me because I’m deathly afraid of not waking up so I’ll get to hear the entire ordeal from a completely novacained head which offers absolutely no comfort to me right now.
I should have had them out years ago! I’m at the self-berating state: “Why didn’t you have them out years ago, you silly girl! Then your morning would be filled with just missing Sherlock instead of hanging off the ceiling in anxiety about your teeth and missing Sherlock!”
Well said, self.
I would have gone at least 10 or 100 more years of not having my teeth yanked out if my regular dentist didn’t threaten to break up with me. Seriously, she said, “Elizabeth, I will not see you again if you don’t get those wisdom teeth out.”
Wow! I’ve been seeing her for 17 years! I mean wow! No warning, (that’s a lie, she’s been telling me for 17 years to get them out) No second chance, (another lie, for the past 5 years she’s threatened to break up with me) just a cold ultimatum.
Why does it always have to be on her terms! I muttered in the mirror this morning, getting a last look at my non-chipmunk face. Who does she think she is anyway?
Because it’s obvious I have separation issues, I’m going through with the dreaded deed. I’ve decided I don’t want to start with another dentist who probably won’t give me 17 years to follow his or her advice.
So off I go. My dream of being buried with my bottom wisdom teeth will never come to fruition. Alas.