Now I know what a fish at the end of a hook experiences. I was back at the dentist this morning after a two-week layoff while he attended to personal matters. The tooth in question is in the lower right corner, tough to reach. The length of drill bit needed would send a chill down even a masochist's spine. He had to remove the cap and repair the decay beneath it. As he did this, he pulled my lip away from the gum with his thumb and fore finger. What fun! The three shots of some kind of 'caine (not nova) he gave me to numb the area in question did nothing to alleviate the discomfort of the yanking. I thought it would leave stretch marks or alter the shape of my mouth the way a stroke might. And the temporary cap is already loose. I'm sure it won't last the week, as usual. The previous one was the exception. I hope I don't swallow it. The biggest fear is that it might lodge in a lung. That kind of worry keeps my dentist from a sound sleep. Fortunately, I have only one more visit.
I set up shop outside the Dolfin Gym on 24th Avenue this afternoon, anticipating a lot of interest in the pristine hardcovers I fell into yesterday. That didn't happen, but my sister brought me luck. As soon as she parked her shopping cart beside me, two women approached. I did business with a Hawkeye, Haleena, who grew up in Iowa. She purchased A Hitch in Twilight and selected books by Daniel Silva and David Baldacci as gifts. I also sold another book on 35mm photography, as I did last week at the same spot, this time to a young woman who lives just up the street. Thanks, ladies.
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