A Waffle Tragedy in One Act

This morning Kenny toasted some Kashi waffles to go along with our usual oatmeal. I decided to save mine for my mid-morning snack and baggied it up with the rest of my lunch fixings.

At 10am when I went to retrieve it from my lunch bag (which was in the incredibly disgusting tomb of a workplace fridge) it was NOT THERE. I continued to paw frantically through my bag, deeply distressed, and a woman who works across the hall laughed at me. Laughed at me! Now, why is that funny? I told her I didn't it was funny because I WAS HUNGRY NOM. Then I ate her. Not really, but I was unamused.

I emailed my husband and told him to go ahead and eat the left-behind waffle because otherwise we'd be wasting food and that is so pre-October 2008.

Here is the email exchange:


Me: I think I left my waffle at home, which makes me sad. Please eat it if you desire.

Kenny: Don't be sad. The cats already dragged it out back and ripped it apart. Then they decide they didn't like it.

Me: Aw, dang. That is tragical.

Kenny: Bad news is the cats dragged it out back and thrashed on it for a while before dropping it in the scummy pond out of boredom.

Me: Zero respect.

Kenny: I guess I can fish it out so it will be dry when you get home.

Me: That's okay. I think it's time to set it free.

Kenny: OK.

THE END

It's pretty out, what can I say?

Sorry to be all neglectful of the blog this week, but I've been busy making up for lost time on the bike. New ride entries are here and here if you care about such things.


In other news: WEEKEND APPROACHES. I have plans for the next six weekends in a row - something like three craft shows, one bridal shower, a yard sale, a bike race, a birthday lunch and a family lunch. BUSY. I hope that some of that activity makes me some money too because I am BROKE. So broke.

Here's how broke I am: I promised my husband that I would not shop for myself for the entire month of April. I'm ten days in and doing great so far. I actually went to Target last weekend and, hand to god, didn't buy a thing. Not a thing! I wasn't even sure that was possible.

I did buy a super-cute coat at the very end of March that will tide me over until May:


I'm not sure what's going on with my head/face area there, so please just concentrate on the coat. It's better for everyone that way.

Poor me. Literally.

So, how's this for a kick in the face? We bought a new heat pump/ac last year and it was really, really expensive but everyone told us we'd get a sweet tax credit for it. Oh, but guess what dipshit president declined to renew that tax credit when it expired at the end of 2007? That's right. It's back on now, so the only year you can't claim that credit is 2008. When we bought the heat pump. Bastards.

Speaking of poor, I forked over $500 yesterday so some guy could rooter out my tooth. The constant dull pain became a CONSTANT JABBING THROBBING pain by Sunday night. I could sleep, I couldn't eat, I could read. The over-the-counter drugs didn't stand a chance. Remember that scene in Cast Away where Tom Hanks chunks out his bad tooth with a rock? I have a new and deep understanding of that scene now. Please, could you hand me that rock?

I got a prescription on Monday for painkillers that helped, but not nearly enough. (Totally overrated when not being taken recreationally.) I went to see the endodontist on Tuesday and she very kindly poked* at my tooth, then watched in horror as I writhed around in the chair in answer to her, "does that hurt?" YES, WHY YES IT DOES. OMG. Strangely enough, the hot/cold sensitivity was nearly gone because my tooth's nerve was dying. Dang. She gave me some fancy prescription-grade Advil and told me I could take Advil with the Vicodin and, lo, it helped! I was still in constant pain, but it was manageable.

Yesterday morning I had my root canal, which I'd initially dreaded. It's amazing what a buttload of pain will do to adjust that attitude, isn't it? By Monday I was looking forward to it like a birthday party or something. Woo, bring on the scritchy drill! Root me out! Go go go! The actual procedure wasn't the most fun I've ever had, but it didn't hurt. It was sort of horrifying to imagine exactly what it was they were doing up in there and the smell! Oh my God, the smell. Opening up my tooth was like opening a tomb filled with half-rotting mummies. It was archaically bad. I mean, BAD. The other really bad part was one of the instruments that let off an incredibly high-pitched whine that only me and dogs can hear. I must have levitated because my endodontist checked to make sure I was okay. TOTALLY DEAF IN THAT EAR BUT I'M FINE, JUST FINE. CARRY ON.

Afterward I went home and had a milkshake (score!) and watched trashy television. It's amazing, but the pain is GONE. Completely gone. That is just the greatest thing ever. In a couple of weeks I have to go get a crown, so there's that to dread, but for now I'm pretty happy to be pain-free without resorting to using a rock. Go modern dentistry. Woo.

Oh, and I should mention that it's a bad thing to be all drugged up on April Fool's Day because I will apparently fall for anything. I think I bought some magic beans and paid into a Ponzi scheme. Oops?

* UPDATE: I thought she just poked at my tooth with a pokey tool, but I found out tonight from my friend Michael that she freaking SHOCKED MY TOOTH. God, no wonder I was rolling around moaning. WHAT. THE. HELL.