Short Entry

You see, I said to my dentist, a chair fell on my head when I was picking up the classroom floor after the kids were gone. I haven't been able to close that side of my jaw completely ever since, but it's only been about two weeks; he had been telling me to tap the new crown into place and it hurt like sixty and after my brief story, he looked at me as if lobsters were coming out of my ears. He also made me laugh while his finger was in my mouth and I accidentally bit him. I would so like to know what planet I'm from.

The not-novocain-anymore-but-I-don't-know-what-it's-called-these-days is wearing off, thank heavens, and the drool is now staying inside my mouth. I dropped off some bags at AmVets and trotted through the aisles--found a nice Jello mold in the shape of the United States lower 48--and when I got back to the car, noticed that white paste leftover from the crown cement had dribbled out sideways almost to my neck and dried. I thought people were smiling at me gently in the store. Now I know why.

So, I am laying low today for my new crown is tender and crabby; I am also practicing closing my mouth. The cats have helped clean out a closet, and some of the day was spent reading, this first day of July in the year of 2010. Tomorrow is lovely Friday, and even though I am off this week, it still rings well, Friday. It means we turn the page.

Sleep well this night, this cool night, and dream of life as a cycle that continues past the five day work week, past the seasons, the years, the passages of times. Love who you can, and the rest can go count their own teeth and toes till they learn what you already know. It visits us in stops and starts, but it is the surest thing which lasts beyond any door we contrive. Sleep in innocence, as we are, and in hope, in which we believe; draw shades, douse lights, tuck under covers and let go in surrender to the mysterious pull of slumber. I sleep. Darkened rooms.