Teeth

I went to the dentist yesterday. I'm having two crowns put in at hideous expense, and my dental insurance pays for almost none of the work. I thought I was going to spend my retirement traveling. Though -- in point of fact -- I am not much of a traveler. However, I still keep thinking that the money I am spending on my teeth would pay for a nice trip to Iceland.

I'm headachy and tired this morning. A simple dental appointment should not slow me down so much. Maybe it's PTSD, due to the money I am paying out.

Or it may be that I really dislike dental work. I am old enough to remember how primitive dentistry used to be, back in the 1950s when the dentists used stone tools. Those early experiences have stayed with me. Modern dental chairs are designed to be comfortable and form-fitting. I always notice that I am lying in them as straight as a board, my body rigid. And I notice when I describe torture in my writing, the torture device always looks more or less like a dental chair, surrounded by dental appliances. (To be fair, it looks more like 1950s dental equipment than the current chairs and machines.)