Before Monday Comes
I seem to have lost my ATM card. I believe, I'm pretty sure, I left it at my camera shop when I picked up the Carnaval film, but I'm not absolutely certain. I'll know Monday when they open. Pain in the butt. Hard to say where it might be, otherwise. A cash machine? Seems unlikely. The camera shop makes sense because it was the last place I can remember using it to make a charge and I've tried in the past to walk out without it. I really haven't done that anywhere else. Otherwise, where? At work? Someplace on my desk? Doubt that too, but, who knows? I hope it's not an early sign of something. (What something, Prop?) Aw, you know. The age thing. The mind, a puddle in the sun, evaporating. Mumble.
I had my teeth cleaned Friday. The hygienist seemed fascinated by the mouth operation. Did I still have my wisdom teeth? Why didn't they take them out when they did the jaw operation? I realized, at that point, the hygienist had no idea what was involved in moving a jaw, which made me feel more comfortable, as I still have little idea myself. Had I known, I wouldn't have had the operation. The dentist suggested I massage my gums when I could, squeezing them between my forefinger and thumb to increase circulation.
He didn't really explain much further, but this led to one of those internal "better take care or they'll break before I grow old and die" calculations. I find myself making these more often. Well, if I'm not careful, this or that body part will probably fall over feet up, but when? Before or after I kick off? My gums are receding from my teeth, but which of them will cross the finish line first: brain, heart or gums? And what does that mean, anyway? Eating through a tube? No chewing? How about peanut butter? If I mix it with gin?
And this capillary business. Squeezing the gums increases the number of capillaries over time and
therefore your blood flow. He was economical in his suggestions for promoting my dental health. Is there nothing else I can do? He didn't suggest a daily combination pizza delivered hot every morning to coat the tongue and keep the teeth sharp, the cheese, you understand, acting as a kind of dentifrice that maintains whiteness, but I think that was his intent. The old "pie a day keeps the cavities away" will remain a well kept secret until the dentists make their deal with the pizza people and structure a properly compensated pizza promotional agreement. The dentists think their endorsement is worth more money than the pizza people want to spend, but I'm confident greed eventually will out. This process, I hear, is uniquely American. French dentists, for example, tout various soft cheeses spread on baguettes to be consumed just before the afternoon nap with nary a thought of compensation from the local Bakery Guild.
OK, OK. What can I say? It's Sunday morning. I need to get out of here into the sun before Monday comes.