Let’s Not Make This a Tradition

It's after 9 a.m. I am still in bed. My plan for the holiday was to have a quiet weekend to myself. I wanted to take it easy after the last few weeks of travel and starting a new job. But that's not why I'm still in bed.

I was up until nearly two in the morning last night, keeping an eye on the split pea soup. After more than twelve hours simmering in a crock-pot set to high, the peas were still al dente. I gave up and went to bed around 1:30, leaving the soup to cook alone overnight. The peas are still not done. Meanwhile, most of the other ingredients have liquefied. Lessen learned: cook the dried peas separately to avoid potentially wasting all those other ingredients, and always use a pinch of baking soda.

Now I have to figure out how to get rid of a gallon of no-good soup that can't be poured down these old sink drains. And I have to find something I can eat. On Christmas, no less. You see, the inspiration for making the soup was that I could consume it through a straw — because Santa brought me a toothache for Christmas. I feel coal would have sufficed.

The toothache arrived late Friday night, as such things tend to, and it's slowly gotten worse as the long weekend continues. It is not so bad that I better run right out to an emergency dental facility, but I need to see a dentist tomorrow if possible. I expect many will be on vacation. Unfortunately, I don't have a regular dentist to call up and cut his holiday short.

I had one I liked for a while, but he moved back south years ago. Then I had another one from the same office, but they stopped taking my insurance. So I tried a couple more. The first was clearly in it for big cash grabs and made no effort to hide the fact. He had all the latest tech and was darn sure going to use every last instrument on you (at least until the gear was paid off). You could see him coming for your wallet a mile away.

The second dentist had an unsettling office in which nobody but he and the secretary ever appeared to be around. No patients. No other dentists. No hygienists. Bob Newhart never dropped in to say hi. It was always just the three of us. The phone seldom even rang. Chalky patches of dried sanitizing fluid were all over the instruments, counters, and chairs. He had great reviews, but it was a weird atmosphere. I wasn't impressed with the work either. I think it may even be the tooth he replaced a cracked crown on that's causing me trouble now.

My current pain definitely originates from somewhere in that region. It's difficult to be certain of the exact origin without poking around with a sharp tool. (I'll pay the professionals for that agony soon enough!) I'm unsure how it's possible for that tooth to feel anything at all because a tiny and extremely pregnant endodontist filed all the nerves out of it many years ago. I remember it well.

Perhaps ironically, one of my upcoming resolutions for the new year was to find a dentist to start some repair work as soon as my new insurance becomes active on the first. The timing wouldn't be so bad, really, if the toothache weren't ruining my peaceful holiday, causing me to miss work at my new job so soon after starting, and didn't hurt so much. There's also the matter of transitioning from my current insurance from my old employer to my new insurance at the beginning of the month. That might get confusing and complicated. I suspect the insurance companies will find a way for this to cost me extra somehow.

Spending Christmas alone with a toothache is not great, but holiday travel and family gatherings with a toothache would have been miserable. I suppose being home in my own bed is a Christmas miracle under the circumstances.

Anyhow, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!