I just had the first half of a root canal, because I do nothing to care for my teeth, least of all go to the dentist. Most of my mouth is numb, and when I drink, I have to touch my lip to be sure that I’ve got a decent seal on the glass. I’m drooling. It’s lovely.
There’s a fine line between taking care and feeling carefree. I always err on the carefree side. It seems to work ok for me. You have moments like now, when you need a root canal, but those seem to be pretty few and far between, and aside from the $150 hit I’m gonna take and a few days discomfort, there’s really no damage done. My mouth will work fine, and I’ll forget that I even have a crown.
I still haven’t had that major moment that teachers began threatening me with in 3rd grade or so, about how one day life wouldn’t be so easy. I’ve had scary days, but still, life’s pretty easy. And brutally complicated and hard, but you know what I mean. Right?
What do I tell me son along those lines? “Son, go ahead and be a fuck up. Go ahead and coast through life because you can, because you were lucky enough to be born a certain way.”? How do I honestly tell him anything else? I know there’s “do as I say, not as I do,” but that only holds water for so long.
I guess what it comes down to is that my son will learn lessons both from my mouth and from my mouth. Both from the words that come from it and the teeth that fall out of it. At least, I hope he will. Still, I think he could do worse than be like me. I really am happy much of the time.
