ONE HELL OF A DAY!
The best part was when I went to my beloved periodontist's office because I thought that half of my jaw was infected with another bone abscess (or worse, of course, because I am the queen of catastrophic thinking) only to find that the pain and swelling I've been experiencing for a week which is probably what triggered my red-line anxiety was nothing more than some trauma visited upon it by chewing entirely on that side. And that I clench my jaws too much and yeah, I have the TMJ. Whatever.
Can I just say that I do love and will continue to love this doctor and his staff? Especially his staff?
His name is Dr. William T. Baldock, DDS, MS and his phone number is (850) 942-8111.
Okay? Credit where credit is due.
They never, ever say, "Uh, Ms. Moon, you really should seek professional psychiatric help."
No, they just probe gently and say reassuring things and they didn't even charge me today and they always add, "Just call us if anything else comes up!"
But before that, before I stumbled out of the office, drunk on relief, a whole damn day's worth of crap had happened. Oh, nothing really. Just all stuff in my own head. I didn't sleep last night but laid awake quivering in the bed, truly believing that my jaw was decaying and putrefying as I breathed, listening to my husband snore. I got out of bed at daybreak and wildly announced, "I have to go home!" and I packed up my stuff and ate about three ounces of yogurt because that's all my stomach could handle due to the anxiety and took off for home, foregoing the farewell breakfast we were all going to have together. With the key to the suite where we were staying in my purse. Of course. I hugged Brenda and said, "I'm sorry!" and "I love you!" and that was that.
She must think I'm insane.
Oh wait. I AM insane.
The drive home was fine for someone who was trembling the whole way. I didn't stop for coffee (coffee? hahahahahahahaha!) or to pee or for anything. I just drove HOME.
Where I immediately checked on the baby chicks who were fine and who have grown to twice the size they were when I left on Thursday and gave them the corn and sweet potato fries I'd brought home and I picked up and stroked Nicey and then unloaded the car and cleaned up dog pee and dog shit and dog vomit. Then I called the dentist office. Then I took half a Xanax because I was about to come right the fuck out of my skin. Then I took a shower, ate three more ounces of yogurt, and drove to town.
Which, as I said, went fine.
I went to the grocery store and came home and unloaded all of that stuff. Load, unload. Load, unload.
Cleaned up the kitchen, started laundry, made Mr. Moon's snack bag and coffee drink. Got him on the road. Sat down with some glue and some glitter to do some fun stuff. My phone started doing some weird alert and it warned me that I was under a tornado warning and to GET TO SHELTER IMMEDIATELY.
Fuck that shit. I was done and done with anxiety. I was hungover, wrung-out, made as limp as a three-hour boiled white noodle with anxiety. Then my neighbor called to warn me about the tornado. Then another friend.
I decided I'd clean out the hall closet enough to get in there if a tornado did come. And by the way, the rain was coming down like Noah's second coming.
Here's what the hall closet looks like.
Oh god. I hear the sound of a train!
Wait. It IS a train.
I think I'm safe now. The chickens are out in the yard, inspecting the new pond in the driveway. Chickens would know if a tornado was approaching and take cover I feel quite certain. So I just defied all sense and went out and took a picture of the bamboo I need to kick.
The amaryllis is about to open up and the blue flag iris have started to unfurl. My little mulberry tree is filled with fuzzy budding fruit and the beans have come up. I feel like I've been gone for a month instead of four days.
And I am so glad to be home. So glad to be back in my funky old house with my funky old junk and my funky old kitchen
and my Best Bed In The World and all four of my pillows
and my panther light and my book and my bad magnolia blossom art and my funky old mermaid with a dead bug hanging from her titties
on my funky old back porch.
And in my funky old kitchen I am going to cook a completely unhealthy Marie Callender's turkey pot pie with Golden Flakey Crust Made From Scratch.
Because I am not dying tonight. Unless a tornado comes and does kill me but I have told my husband that if that happens, I love him, I have always loved him, and I always will.
So. That's about all the preparation I need at this point.
Love From Lloyd...Ms. Moon