Lately it's been torture for me to come up with posts. After the love/fart/egg sandwich post last week, I felt like George on Seinfeld when he learned to always leave on a high note. After that post (and other popular ones) I felt like saying, Thank you and good night . For real. But I didn't.
Did you know that if you stop working out or exercising, your muscles ATROPHY? The same goes for writing. And loving. And relationships. And self discipline.
I plug along, not sure of what or if I have anything to say. Putting words in front of others to just give you a glimpse at the machinery. Dull as it may sometimes be.
I want to write bitter dentist posts.
Today I shall go back for a second time this week in order to have both blood and money let. Monday was my first filling in about 20 years that I needed. My regular dentist is on vacation so I have the other one. The other one is gruff and says little. I know what his secret is too, as it's readily readable in all his mannerisms. He hates his job but is trapped doing it. Anyway, he jacked me up so full of novacain that my eye drooped and I had trouble swallowing. Unforturnately, he didn't wait long enough for it to really take effect before he started grinding out my tooth. Even as I winced, he made no effort to soothe me. It's okay, I can take it, I'm a man. At least that is what I kept telling myself. Then he left the room and the torture cleaning dental assistant came in to finish the job. She reminds me of a teacher always frowning at things she doesn't like and saying "Good!" when she is pleased. The only difference is that I didn't DO anything to merit frowns or praises. Still, I am happy when she looks in my mouth and says "Good!". I guess I'm just a praise junkie.