Yesterday I visited the ophthalmologist... yeah, yeah, so I didn't know the difference of an ophthalmologist and an optometrist. Apparently I went to the wrong place, although they were fine with me being there- I just had to pay far more than my $10 co-pay with my vision insurance. Alas. I listened to a lecture about sleeping in my contacts and the consequences I would suffer if I decided to continue this abuse. So tonight I'm blogging with my contacts in the cleaning case and my glasses on my face- pat on the back.
Today was the dentist appointment. I decided that a thick, sound-proof door is strategically placed to separate the waiting area and the daunting rooms hidden beyond it. Upon opening that magical door, the unnerving sounds of drilling, metal pointy things scraping, and mysterious-but-oh-so-unpleasant noises are easily audible. I imagine if the dentist office sounds made it all the way to the waiting area, I would have left an hour and a half sooner (and so would anybody else who is in their right mind). Why do we subject ourselves to such terrible experiences as dental work? Anyway, after 20 x-rays and at about 15 gags, the dental hygienist lectured me on the appropriate way to brush my teeth, or rather my gums, and that 5 years is too long of a "spann" in-between visits. Then I was informed that I would need to make two more appointments for them to drill, poke, and prod deeply into my teeth. Bummer. The news made my face flush with anxiety- hearing the drill in the other room is terrifying enough, so I definitely don't want that weapon in my mouth. Needless to say, as soon as I closed myself into Surely Dimple, my beautiful new car (who has character due to a serious hail storm), tears came bursting out. So, I remembered how my parents always consoled us after doctor appointments by taking us out for ice cream, so of course that was Surely's next stop- ice cream offers sweet comfort to a drilled, gagged, scraped, poked, and tartar-free mouth.
