Do you ever look back over a day in your life…or a string of several days, for that matter…and think…
Did that really just happen to me?
It occurs with me daily, friends. But I feel especially compelled to tell you about the events of the past few weeks. And no, none of these events count as sucker punches. I’ve listed them for you in numerical order, should you care to replicate these events.
1) Grow yourself an impeccably formed palate, including ample room for wisdom teeth, by the time you are eighteen years old.
2) Snigger behind closed doors at all of your high school friends who are having their wisdom teeth yanked. Be totally gnarly (yes, that was a good thing to be in 1989) and deliver Jell-O, Hunt’s Pudding Snack Packs, and Lipton Cup a Soup to their doors. Because you are a licensed driver with a cherry red Ford Escort station wagon to prove it.
3) Over the next 25 years, give your intact wisdom teeth the brush-off, so to speak, when conducting your oral hygiene routine. Dude. They’re really far back there. And hard to reach. Not gnarly.
4) At age 42, get slapped with the news from your dentist that those wisdom teeth are decaying. (See: Not gnarly). And guess what? You must have them extracted.
5) Sob uncontrollably and say a Hail Mary for every high school friend at which you sniggered behind a closed door back in the day. To no avail. An appointment has been set for those decaying suckers to be pulled.
6) On the morning of your appointment, pull yourself together, put on your big girl panties, drink a nutrient-packed smoothie for fortification, and wait for your girlfriend to come and pick you up for your appointment.
7) Arrive at the oral surgeon’s office to be greeted by a receptionist who is a middle-aged dead ringer for Gilly from Saturday Night Live. Stifle your giggles and answer her questions, including what you ate that morning.
8) Get yourself drummed out of the office by Gilly as she snarkily looks up at you and says,
9) Reschedule your appointment. Leave with your tail between your legs, vowing to never drink another smoothie as long as you live.
10) Two weeks later, show up again at the oral surgeon’s office. Tell Gilly that you haven’t eaten once since you left the office the last time.
11) Feel a degree of smug satisfaction, as well as more than a twinge of hunger-induced light-headedness, as you get strapped into the surgeon’s chair.
12) What seems like ten seconds later, wake up crying for no apparent reason and leave with your girlfriend, who is carrying your post-operative instructions and other paraphernalia for you. Let her drive you home and tuck you in on your couch in the family room. Marvel at the irony of her stocking your pantry with Jell-O, Hunt’s Pudding Snack Packs, and Lipton Cup a Soup. Fantasize about a long day of lounging on the couch while The Cherubs are in school.
13. What seems like ten seconds later, wake up crying for two VERY apparent reasons: 1) Your mouth is on fire and is approximately the size of an rhinoceros’ hind quarters, and 2) The Cherubs and three of their friends are running amok, singing karaoke at the top of their lungs, and playing Nerf Gun War. After all, you do live in Chiberia. And school has been canceled for the next two days on account of frigid temperatures.
Inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat.