I Want to Be - A Dentist
[Not.]
I went to a new dentist yesterday. That's right, I left the practice I had been going to since I was a child: the people who had space in that c1968 building on Monument at Staples Mill, with the steep back stairs so scary to a 7 year-old; one of the first 10 places I learned to drive to by myself as a teenager.

At this new place, there's a computer screen coming out of the chair. Okay, fine, we are looking at my chart together on the screen. Very nice - here's a slide show of soothing scenes instead of the wallpaper poster of a quiet beach. Oh my freakin goodness! She's taking pictures of the inside of my mouth!! Good lord, I didn't know my teeth were so hideous. I knew I needed old fillings replaced -- I did not need to see the holes taking root next to the worn away silver. I believe you, you're a professional! Make it stop! The awareness that I have a mouth full of gaping [tiny] holes made my teeth hurt all day.

To complement that ache, I went out to Midlothian to pack up four or five boxes of kitchen gear, roll up several rugs, put artwork in the Civic, and unload it all again in K&Q County.

Capital City weather: muggy and rainy