Yesterday I had my wisdom teeth removed (one normal, one partial impaction, two bony impactions). Today I look like a little chipmunk in a red sweatshirt, holed up in Connecticut, icing my face and smashing up ice cream and milk, licking the spoon.
My movies are lined up: all groggily grabbed from the "New Releases" section of our local mom and pop video store.* My orange-toned pill bottles are stacked like a frathouse beer pyramid and on the top, the strangest and most important bottle of them all: the teeth (I asked if I could keep the teeth; my oral surgeon delivered. And they're big! And they're crazy looking! Real teeth that were, less than twenty four hours ago, part of my skull!).
It's a far cry from Fashion Week champagne flutes, The Super Bowl festivities, Super Tuesday revelations, going overboard with my friends and Restaurant Week and my free-floating job search. Instead it's sleepy suburbs and redesigning a brochure for my mother's business, trying not to jostle my dissolving stiches. It's updating my iPod, it's sleeping in spurts, the dog next to me. Sometimes it's great to be home-home, and now is one of them. During the week, during the winter, happily going through a bag of found vintage magnets, all sorts of things that don't happen in an apartment where days fly by in favor of nights. I keep moving my computer to different parts of the house. I tiptoe after twelve. I wear sweatpants and a headband two days in a row. I avoid writing my novel (that hasn't changed). I sleep a little better. I move a whole lot less. There's only one thing that's hard so far:
I watch my family eat dinner the same way my cats and dog do. There's cornbread and pork chili and brownies and we give our best begging eyes to be thrown a scrap. We want to eat people food. We're not allowed. We get pointed to a bowl of mush and then all go sulk in the living room before taking a nap.
*This is the same place where once I rented "Sophie's Choice" and "The Hills Have Eyes" at the same time, to the disbelief of the owner.
My movies are lined up: all groggily grabbed from the "New Releases" section of our local mom and pop video store.* My orange-toned pill bottles are stacked like a frathouse beer pyramid and on the top, the strangest and most important bottle of them all: the teeth (I asked if I could keep the teeth; my oral surgeon delivered. And they're big! And they're crazy looking! Real teeth that were, less than twenty four hours ago, part of my skull!).
It's a far cry from Fashion Week champagne flutes, The Super Bowl festivities, Super Tuesday revelations, going overboard with my friends and Restaurant Week and my free-floating job search. Instead it's sleepy suburbs and redesigning a brochure for my mother's business, trying not to jostle my dissolving stiches. It's updating my iPod, it's sleeping in spurts, the dog next to me. Sometimes it's great to be home-home, and now is one of them. During the week, during the winter, happily going through a bag of found vintage magnets, all sorts of things that don't happen in an apartment where days fly by in favor of nights. I keep moving my computer to different parts of the house. I tiptoe after twelve. I wear sweatpants and a headband two days in a row. I avoid writing my novel (that hasn't changed). I sleep a little better. I move a whole lot less. There's only one thing that's hard so far:
I watch my family eat dinner the same way my cats and dog do. There's cornbread and pork chili and brownies and we give our best begging eyes to be thrown a scrap. We want to eat people food. We're not allowed. We get pointed to a bowl of mush and then all go sulk in the living room before taking a nap.
*This is the same place where once I rented "Sophie's Choice" and "The Hills Have Eyes" at the same time, to the disbelief of the owner.
3 comments:
oh dear...hope you're feeling better soon!
*scale of 1-10 how was the pain? I'm looking to have all four of mine removed as well...
Ooh I am so jealous. I was not permitted to keep my teeth ]:< The oral surgeon did not understand the importance of personal additions to the curio cabinet.
Like the time I ordered beef marrow and it came out still ensconced in these gigantic and delightfully creepy femur-rounds, and I asked if I could have the bones to go. Waiter: "Oh, you have a dog?" Me: "Noo..." Waiter: *uncomfortable silence* "I'll just take these away."
having to watch your parents eat the way Lucca and Zen do? Priceless.com!
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