Kismet

Kismet

I emailed Venus earlier today and asked about a chair she had for sale last week. Unfortunately, it had sold, but she sent me a Craigslist link to two other chairs she'd found ... one of which is the exact same fabric that's on my futon and it only costs $35. Shut UP! I emailed the seller. Hopefully s/he'll write back soon. I want I want I want!

Thank Goodness I only have to do this twice a year

I made it to the dentist after violating several traffic laws in record time. X-rays (blah), cleaning (blah), teeth polishing (tickles!), and then ... a pause.

Pause?

Hygienist: *scrape scrape* "Turn your head towards me a little more." *scrape scrape* A little more. A little ... more."

Lady, the occipital bone is there for a REASON.

*scrape scrape poke*

*wince*

"Looks like you have a cavity. I'm going to have to take that x-ray again."

M (thinking): DAMN IT I HATE X-RAYS YOU SUCK PUT DOWN THOSE POKEY TOOLS AND LAUGH WITH ME WHEN I GIGGLE WHEN YOU RUN THE TOOTH POLISHER ACROSS MY LIP AND IT TICKLES YOU HUMOR-FREE WENCH.

M (audibly): M'kay.

So. I have a cavity. Boo! But this is only my third in 34 years, so not too bad. I go back to The Place of No Laughing next week for the filling and to have impressions taken so the dentist can make me a mouth guard that I can wear at night to stop me from clenching my teeth. I don't think I grind them but George and Gizmo never report back about my sleep habits in the morning, so I don't exactly know. That said, my ex-g only ever complained about my snoring, so either I didn't grind my teeth or the snoring drowned out the noise. She was a poophead and I don't feel bad about snoring so there. *thpbbpbpt*

Um. More kismet.

After the dentist, I zoom zoom zoomed my way to the north side and got King V a book of Billy Collins' poems. (KV's 64th birthday is tomorrow.) The book is actually the gift from the employees. I'm giving him an Edie Carey CD, bought him a book I saw on the bargain shelf that's all about the history of left-handed people (der, guess who's left-handed), and then I stopped at Trader Joe's for a bottle of three-buck Chuck. If I get struck by lightning inspiration when I get home, I might write him a poem as well. Whatever the case, everything from here on out has to be re-gifted homemade because I are out of money. The kismet lies in the fact that the left-handers book was the only one of its kind on the bargain shelf and was just sitting there, apparently waiting for me to pick it up. Had it been $3 instead of $13, that would've been super-mega-awesome kismet but I'll take what I can get. Also, on my way into the store, I saw that they're hiring part-time folks. Given my need for a second job so that I can get Visa off my ass and desire, insane though it is, to work in a bookstore again, I thought that was pretty bitchin'.

* * * * * * * * * *

Okay, I came back to the office for what I THOUGHT was 15 minutes to grab my cell phone and check my email ... and now I've been here about two hours, listened to a CD, and it's grown dark outside. I'm glad light has come back to our days but damn if 8:00 PM isn't a deceptive little bastard.