May 5th, 2019

Tripod in box

El Cinco de Mayo

Today is rainy; I woke up without the alarm, hoping it was a Sunday because if it was a Monday, I was late. (Story of my life.)

I had woken in a REM phase of dreaming, and the last thing I remembered was that squirrels—in the dream I thought they were rats until they broke through the plaster—were scrabbling and tunneling out of the wall. Turns out it was my cat [pictured] galloping back and forth in the apartment to wake me up.

I had another implant procedure a few days ago; this makes four sockets—out of five—that have been prepared for crowns in my mouth. I was given the usual post-op instructions: don't blow, suck, or spit—there's a joke in there somewhere—and don't chew on that side. Gargle twice a day with foul-tasting chlorhexidine. The stitches are already dissolving—membrane heals fast—and I can see that the operation has probably been a success.

Current events: I've been OD-ing on current events, which is why I'm not writing here about anything going on in Washington or the world. I haven't turned on the TV for well over a year, but have YouTube™ clips on demand—which means I can watch CNN and MSNBC; I'll tell people in one breath "I don't have cable"—which I don't—but on the other hand I watch it all the time on the computer.

The birds are chirping outside; hearing them is a wonderful thing about living in the back of the building, over the courtyard. A not-so-wonderful thing is the beer-and-coke parties that happen out back on Saturday nights; I report them via 311, because it's annoying and there isn't much else I can do besides get them on record. Yes, I have become an old lady; six-year-old me had no idea this was ever going to happen.

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