At the end of last week, I asked for help on my Facebook page and personal profile after I had suddenly been stuck with my first toothache. There were some fantastic suggestions but a clear frontrunner was Orajel, so on Sunday I popped into the pharmacy and picked some up. AH-MAY-ZING stuff. It numbs your gums like when you have an injection before dental work. Fab. I also bought some Corsodyl mouthwash and booked an appointment at my dentist for yesterday.
I’m not scared of the dentist’s but I had expected I’d need a fair bit of work doing, as it has been 4 years since my last visit (when I was pregnant with Biggest) and my personal oral hygiene has not been the strictest of regimes since I became a mother.
My toothache had worn off by Monday evening, after a couple of rounds of Orajel and switching to Corsodyl, but I still kept the well-overdue appointment.
I explained to the lovely dentist that I had had a toothache on my back molar on the side facing the wisdom tooth growing next to it (STILL). The angle at which the wisdom is growing has made a weird gap between them where food frequently gets stuck. I assumed the enamel had finally started to wear away and I’d need it out.
The dentist said it was actually just inflamed gums from my silly wisdom tooth having a random growth spurt and pressing into my molar. And aside from a scale and polish I actually don’t need any other work doing. My teeth never cease to amaze me. They’re not pretty, they have fluorosis but they are SO bloody strong. I’ll write about fluorosis another day.
The visit got me thinking about how wonderful good dentists are. Biggest was present with Danny too, and she really enjoyed seeing Mummy getting her teeth looked at and is looking forward to her appointment in 2 weeks.
Like…what more do I need to say, really?
Nothing catapults me into someone else’s mind and world more quickly and impactfully than books do.
I love nothing more than getting a new book, flipping the pages and inhaling the grammatical aroma. I’m not even lying.
Sometimes, I don’t even buy the book. I just flirt with what’s on the menu. I look and DO touch.
I’ve had some writing commissioned this week by a client who’ll be paying in USD. I wrote a couple of articles last month for another American client and we sorted it all out over PayPal because it’s just so damn EASY. PayPal sometimes gets a bad rap, but look, I can convert to GBP in the click of a button. BOOM. Done. Or I can keep it as a separate balance in USD if I want.
I’m not sure what my bank’s rules are on accepting foreign currency paid directly, but I can imagine there’d be a whole load of hassle, blocks on the account thinking I’m money-laundering or something, and helpful (nosey) calls about where I’m getting my money from and why. UGH. I just CBA with all that (least of all phone calls. Never call me unless it’s an emergency).
Thank you, sweet PayPal.