Me Numb - You Dumb

Aaah. Okay - all is well once again. My 3rd (but not final) trip to the dentist for repair is over. And, 3 fillings and a numb-ass mouth later - I'm feeling pretty good.

My dentist was being a real asshole though. You see, I've already had 5 fillings now, and 1 crown. All that in the past 2 months. And *most* of it, I've had to pay out of pocket. Yes, I have good insurance, but they pay shitty for dental work. So now I have these 2 crowns left - and it's going to be like $1,000 to get them done. And today, my dentist was all, "Yeah, you really need to get back in here as soon as possible before that decay turns in to having to do ao root-canal." --Uh, no shit sherlock. But unless HE want to pay the $1,000 - HE can shut the fuck up. (potty mouth today, eh?)

I cannot afford to pay that right now. Especially with Christmas coming up and all. I mean, duh, I know I need the damn work done! I've known it for a freaking year. But that doesn't change the fact I don't have the cash to pay for it. And I'm nearly positive the fillings he did today were pointless. I mean, I didn't even know I had the cavaties. They didn't/don't hurt - so in my scheme of things, I'm betting he just did it just because. Hrmmm, is this from my distrust in dentist? Or just my general distrust in men? Who knows.

Jeremy called me right when I had got back to work too. He was acting all stupid & goofy - typical ex-husband behavior. And, being the bitch I am, finally had to ask him, "Um, did you call for a specific purpose? Or just to bother me?" He retorted, "Geez, you don't have to be a bitch!" --I then told him I wasn't feeling well, and that I had just returned from a less-than-plesant dental visit. "Oh," he says, "Well, then I'll let you go. And, uh, go chew on some gum, will ya!" (hince the fact gum would have ripped my newly numb & filled cavaties out) -Thanks A-Hole. You're funny.

Spoke with my Fireman friend last night after about a week of not hearing from him. (I have a bad habit of waiting for friends to call me, rather than calling them) I proceeded to make him feel utterly guilty at the fact he hadn't called me - but then knew it would just be a waste of my precious time. He could have really cared less, I know. I hate talking on the phone, anyhow.

So my daughter now has some type of weird fetish with the trash can. I have a lid on it, but she's a very witty 14 month old, and can take it off. She'll stick her little arm down in there and grab the first thing she feels & take it out to bring it to me. Most of the time, it's a food product, and she doesn't bring it to me until she's devoured half of it. The other day it was a chocolate chip cookie. The week before that, a stale & burnt steak finger. I pondered a more convienent place to put the trash can, seeing as how she's constantly trash-digging. . . . but my apartment is so small, there's really no other feasible place. Guess I'll just have to keep a closer eye on it/her.

Alrighty - I'm begining to gain feeling back in the upper part of the left side of my face. I think I'll go smoke now.