I thought last year's "take-out" Thanksgiving was the Thanksgiving to beat all Thanksgivings, but boy, was I wrong.
I woke up Wednesday morning in excruciating pain, from the tooth I'd gone to the dentist for on Monday. Ah, to be Monday again, in which I moaned to Clint "$200! Shit, it's probably going to cost me $200 to fix this!" I left, in shock, with antibiotics and an $800 estimate.
Long story short, my dentist worked me back in Wednesday, to "open up that tooth and take a look." Seriously, getting my teeth cleaned makes me edgy; the idea of "opening one up" made me hyperventilate.
Opened, Closed, and out the door with more bad news. Shocking news! Such a diligent brusher and flosser I am, and this is my pinkslip on the way out. Or rather, my green slip:
Extract the tooth. Heal. Implant titanium post. Heal. Screw on new tooth, so that others don't shift around in my head. Heal.
$3,000. No dental insurance: Longtime Wallet Healing. Can't we go back to the $200 I was wailing about on Monday? Pleeeeeeeeease?
Anyway, I left, Wednesday, with a temporary filling, an order for oral surgery, and another Rx for Vicodin. Clint came home from work that night, with a sore throat and stuffy head, and his own bag full of medicinal goodies. We crashed until late Thursday morning, ate some breakfast, and then crashed some more.
I took this photo, yesterday afternooon, of "Our Thanksgiving Feast."
Cold meds, tea & honey, vicodin. Just like real Pilgrims & Indians.
But guess what? The Thanksgiving Fairies came!! Around 4:00, the doorbell rang, and I gingerly opened to find my cousin Michael, and his girlfriend, Debbie, standing there with armloads of Thanksgiving-feast laden trays. "Happy Thanksgiving!"
Two giant plates full of HOT food, hot AMAZING food. Turkey AND ham, potatoes and noddles...well, just look at all of it. There was also a tray full of desserts! Whoo hoo! I've always said that food that other people cook for you tastes better than food you cook for yourself...and this meal proved my point.
In fact, I've decided never to cook another Thankgiving dinner ever again, and start a new family tradition: Stalk Michael and Debbie, and crash their Thanksgiving meal.
I'm sorry I didn't get their photos, so you could see who they are. Just as well, you might stalk them too, crash their parties, and get my food before I get there.
I wonder where they'll be at Christmas...
(Mike, I'm sorry I called you a fairy.)