I requested to see the tooth after all was said and done. I wanted to get some words in before the blessed numbness wore off and I began the slow slog toward feeling normal again.

“You screwed up! Get out of my sight! You’re fired!”

I managed that much, or something like that through biting on a bunch of cotton. The dental professional (of some variety) laughed. I don’t believe they’ve heard a tooth lose its job before.

I still think about what discomforts I may have just gotten used to. I wish they could just be levered up out of my life, in one piece, and summarily disposed of.

Won’t happen, though.

More Typewritten to come. Giving myself permission to fire off any half-baked idea has really opened up new space for topics.