So ...... I get in the car witrh Josh this morning and I say "It smells like food in here. Do you see any food?" and he moves his head around as if he's actually looking for some food and he says "Nope."
We commence the drive to school.
I drop Josh off at school, he grabs his back pack and lunch from next to his feet in the foot space of the passenger seat where he has spent approximately 4 hours of the last 2 days sitting and I turn around and drive the 20 minutes back to new town and then 10 more past it to get to the dentist, (I still smell food) which is the special implant dentist, because that's where I get my teeth cleaned these days and I go for a cleaning during which I tell the lovely human being of a dental hygienist that the regular dentist wants to recrown a tooth but I know it has an infection because it hurts and I think it has to be removed because once my teeth cross me these days I kick them out. The hygenist brings in the oral surgeon who says he thinks the offending tooth can be saved with a root canal, and I do all that I can not to laugh in his face because my special sponge like teeth laugh in the face of a root canal and that only inspires them to make matters (or bacteria) worse. It has to go, death penalty for the infidel! But I agree to have a consultation with the root canal guy. Why? I do not really know, maybe it's because I am hoping that he will say that my swiss cheese teeth are not good candidates for a root canal (which I already know from experience) I'm not going to waste my time and money on a root canal. (only on an office visit with the root canal doctor) Also, this time bomb of a tooth is ready to explode and I was kind of hoping they'd just rip out on the spot so it could stop hurting, while at the same time I know that as I sit there all calm and zen explaining in a rational voice how it's been hurting for a couple of weeks, they DO NOT GET IT because other people with the same throbbing tooth would come in clutching an ice pack to their faces and drooling. Damn my sky high pain tolerance.
I was all pissed over the whole tooth thing when I got back into the car because the last thing I want to do is meet the root canal dentist. I just want to have nothing to do so I can photograph every single day. Is that too much to ask for? I sit down in the driver's seat and smell that freaking food smell again. I know what I'm smelling, and I am sure there is something in the car with me, so I lean over and look into the foot space of the passenger seat that Josh spent the entire weekend (and this morning) occupying and spot a brown paper bag that I can not readily identify. I lift up said bag and it pulls apart because the thai food leftovers that Josh carried back to the car for me Friday night have exploded the plastic container they are in and now there is 3 day old spicy eggplant leaking all over my lap. If anyone can tell me how it is exactly that testicles impair a dude's vision I would be infinitely interested in knowing.
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