Home...
Northern Virginia, land of Hondas and insane drivers. I'm fearing for my life on on-ramps and in lane changes up here. Honestly, you'll save 30 seconds at the MOST by cutting me off to be in front. Every one is just so anxious to get where they're going. Enjoy the ride! why else do you have an expensive car that is supposed to make driving an experience and not a burden. Sheesh.
When I'm home I always catch up on things that I never do that I should do when I'm in Williamsburg. But Fairfax becomes the place where I wash my shoes and vaccuum my car and sew up loose seams or lost buttons. Being home and having a house to do them in inspires me to take care of the smaller fixes that pop up from day to day. It's also the time when I do my dentist visits, and other maintenance-type errands.
I hate the dentist. I have a great dentist too. I've been seeing the guy since I was 5. He's seen me from kindergarten through college; through two sets of braces, caps, crowns, palatal expanders, wisdom teeth removal, cavities, and more orthodontic surgery procedures that I'd care to think about. My parents and I have trusted this great guy with my mouth for almost 20 years. It's not him I hate, it's what he's done to me. Every time I go I get nervous. I'm almost a quarter of a century old and I'm still afraid of the metal pick they take out to scrape your teeth at the beginning of a routine cleaning. That pick always seems to find something in my mouth that makes the dentist furrow his brow, say "hmmm", and subsequently causes me great pain.
The fact that I fell down the stairs in a walker when I was 3 probably has something to do with it. But man, when they talk about a million-dollar smile, I think I'm one of the ones where they mean it literally and not figuratively.
When I took my most recent trip to the dentist, there was a tiny blonde girl who walked into the office with trepidation and a look of fear on her face. She was gripping her mothers hand and walking VERY slowly towards her assigned chair. She was escorted to the chair in the back and I knew instantly she was in for it. Poor thing, she knew it too. Little kids know when something bad's about to happen, i.e. a shot, gross medicine, the tongue depresser which makes you gag at the doctor's. Then she got the mask. My dentist calls it "the clown mask". It's the mask that gives you the laughing gas that makes you loopy while they dismantle your jaw. They put it on her, and she was searching for her mother. Then came the drill. There is nothing worse than that sound in the entire world in my mind. I felt like it was me in the chair. I knew exactly what was going through the girl's head. She was really good though, didn't scream, barely even whimpered. I was impressed.
I escaped without any cavities and with a slight repirmand because I'm not flossing like I should be. But I always feel like I narrowly escape torture when I leave because for about 15 years of my life, that's all I received every time I went. I hope those days are somewhat in the past now.
I also visited my grandma today in her new room at her nursing home. She is on the "special care" floor now. You have to have a code to get on the elevator to leave it. The code is 1-007. I think it's a good joke. My grandma has alzheimer's disease. As it has progressed, she has regressed. The more the disease takes over, the younger she acts. I would put her at about kindergarten age right now. She loves to have stories read to her, she plays with a plastic baby doll that we got her, and she has a very short attention span. She has her moments of clarity when you bring up something from her past, but it's gone almost as soon as it comes. Visiting her is always eye-opening. Makes me think that there may be a point where modern medicine will enable us to live too long.
Home is fantastic. I love having a bigger bed. It's only a full-size, but it feels like a California King compared to the bed I sleep in at my apartment. There are things that I prefer how I do them when I'm on my own. Makes me realize how hard it would be to live at home again. But being around the family is great. I had so much fun this weekend. but I know that I can't go back to Northern Virginia. There are too many people in too small a space now. I'll have to branch out. It will make for an interesting job search when I get back from the tropics.
Northern Virginia, land of Hondas and insane drivers. I'm fearing for my life on on-ramps and in lane changes up here. Honestly, you'll save 30 seconds at the MOST by cutting me off to be in front. Every one is just so anxious to get where they're going. Enjoy the ride! why else do you have an expensive car that is supposed to make driving an experience and not a burden. Sheesh.
When I'm home I always catch up on things that I never do that I should do when I'm in Williamsburg. But Fairfax becomes the place where I wash my shoes and vaccuum my car and sew up loose seams or lost buttons. Being home and having a house to do them in inspires me to take care of the smaller fixes that pop up from day to day. It's also the time when I do my dentist visits, and other maintenance-type errands.
I hate the dentist. I have a great dentist too. I've been seeing the guy since I was 5. He's seen me from kindergarten through college; through two sets of braces, caps, crowns, palatal expanders, wisdom teeth removal, cavities, and more orthodontic surgery procedures that I'd care to think about. My parents and I have trusted this great guy with my mouth for almost 20 years. It's not him I hate, it's what he's done to me. Every time I go I get nervous. I'm almost a quarter of a century old and I'm still afraid of the metal pick they take out to scrape your teeth at the beginning of a routine cleaning. That pick always seems to find something in my mouth that makes the dentist furrow his brow, say "hmmm", and subsequently causes me great pain.
The fact that I fell down the stairs in a walker when I was 3 probably has something to do with it. But man, when they talk about a million-dollar smile, I think I'm one of the ones where they mean it literally and not figuratively.
When I took my most recent trip to the dentist, there was a tiny blonde girl who walked into the office with trepidation and a look of fear on her face. She was gripping her mothers hand and walking VERY slowly towards her assigned chair. She was escorted to the chair in the back and I knew instantly she was in for it. Poor thing, she knew it too. Little kids know when something bad's about to happen, i.e. a shot, gross medicine, the tongue depresser which makes you gag at the doctor's. Then she got the mask. My dentist calls it "the clown mask". It's the mask that gives you the laughing gas that makes you loopy while they dismantle your jaw. They put it on her, and she was searching for her mother. Then came the drill. There is nothing worse than that sound in the entire world in my mind. I felt like it was me in the chair. I knew exactly what was going through the girl's head. She was really good though, didn't scream, barely even whimpered. I was impressed.
I escaped without any cavities and with a slight repirmand because I'm not flossing like I should be. But I always feel like I narrowly escape torture when I leave because for about 15 years of my life, that's all I received every time I went. I hope those days are somewhat in the past now.
I also visited my grandma today in her new room at her nursing home. She is on the "special care" floor now. You have to have a code to get on the elevator to leave it. The code is 1-007. I think it's a good joke. My grandma has alzheimer's disease. As it has progressed, she has regressed. The more the disease takes over, the younger she acts. I would put her at about kindergarten age right now. She loves to have stories read to her, she plays with a plastic baby doll that we got her, and she has a very short attention span. She has her moments of clarity when you bring up something from her past, but it's gone almost as soon as it comes. Visiting her is always eye-opening. Makes me think that there may be a point where modern medicine will enable us to live too long.
Home is fantastic. I love having a bigger bed. It's only a full-size, but it feels like a California King compared to the bed I sleep in at my apartment. There are things that I prefer how I do them when I'm on my own. Makes me realize how hard it would be to live at home again. But being around the family is great. I had so much fun this weekend. but I know that I can't go back to Northern Virginia. There are too many people in too small a space now. I'll have to branch out. It will make for an interesting job search when I get back from the tropics.
Comments