I’d pay a lot of money to evict a certain woman from my life. She’s just so damned mean. Hurts me all the time without even feeling guilty.
I’m referring, of course, to my dentist.
Why, why, why, didn't I floss regularly? Why, why, why, didn't I do the twice yearly thing? After this morning's visit, her parting words (as she handed me the root canal guy’s card): “Just in case that tooth starts to throb. You don’t wanna go through the weekend that way.”
(Note to self: call mechanic, make appointment for car service; call gyno, make appointment for annual exam and mammo; call internist, make appointment for cholesterol panel.)
Are you sensing a pattern here?
Yep, I have a thing about maintenance, don’t I? You should see my garage. Well, no. You shouldn’t.
When, do you suppose, is the last time I defragged my computer? Right.
When, do you suppose, is the last time I cleaned out my refrigerator? Right.
No wonder I haven’t jumped on the over-50 cosmetic surgery bandwagon. More maintenance!
Too bad you can’t do one of those prepaid service agreements on your life.
{Throb, throb}
P.S. Just kidding about the dentist. She's adorable, and going to her office is like a good gossip fest except the pain is physical instead of mental.
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