I know better than to do something impulsively on a rainy, grey Sunday afternoon, don’t I? I’m a practical kind of woman. I don’t get taken in by schemes and offers of wonderful things that could happen if I just filled out this form. So why did I, eh? Especially, since this particular impulse involved Money and, worse than that, US$$$$$$. I just wasn’t thinking at all when I did this.
But it’s been a rough March. Doesn’t that forgive a little of my impulsiveness? First, it was the foot and my hobbling around in pain for three weeks. Then, just when it started to feel better and I could think about getting back to exercise and the pool, it was time for me to go and have my gum surgery. That was not pretty and it was not a good time. The doctor said, it was the hardest, most difficult surgery he had ever performed. I didn’t know whether to congratulate him or say I was sorry. It took over two hours. He had to keep poking me with more novocaine so I could survive his handiwork. At one point, he had to stop because he had a cramp in his thumb. I looked at him and he told me that it was because my lips were just too tough to pull on. I didn’t mention to him — after all he had a drill in his hand — that perhaps my tough mouth was also feeling cramped and hurting. By the time he declared the job done-done-DONE, I was exhausted but I had a pretty good idea that this was not going to be an easy healing, no-sir-ee. My first hint at that was when he told me to just sit still and DO NOT GET UP. He handed me an old copy of Hello, saying that maybe, in my present state, I’d appreciate something lighter than Time magazine. Seeing a smiling, trim Kate Middleton in her white eyelet dress, with a side slit, did not make me feel any less concerned about my mouth.
When he finally came back, he had two Advils for me to take right then and there. Then he whipped out his prescription pad and sent his receptionist off to the pharmacy for antibiotics. This was serious stuff that did not bode well for me. Then he sat there is his little saddle-like chair on wheels in his tidy, lavender-checked shirt (it really was quite spring-like) and started to go through the do’s/don’t’s of healing from this particular surgery. I was weary already but after his instructions I asked him, “Can I just sit here and cry now?” He didn’t even crack a smile, and especially, when I said, “Gosh, now I get to go pay for this fun time I just had.” He said, “I earned it with you!” Two hours, two thousand dollars — not a bad pay for this guy. Needless to say, those words never left my mouth, which would have been difficult since my entire face was still frozen and my right jaw starting to feel murmurs of the pain that was to come.
So, really, with the kind of month I’ve been having, can’t I be forgiven for this expensive, Sunday afternoon, impulsiveness? I know I haven’t even told you what I did. I’m a little embarrassed to actually write it down here. I swore I would never, ever do this again. But then I got that nice pic from Ken out in Seattle with a sweet note and I thought, “Well, why not, Ann? Go ahead, click on that link he included in his email. What the hell, just do it.” …And I did.
If I could write this confession all in invisible ink, I would. I’m just that cringey about what did. If I could still get down on the floor, I’d just hide under the table like my little niece, Rachael, used to do in order not to have to go to kindergarten. But the cats would eventually find me and demand I get the hell out of there and feed them and, for goodness sake, just spit it out. Tell your readers what you’ve done.
(Ok, I signed up for an on-line dating service.)
I can hear the moans from my readers because I am echoing every one of them here as I write this. But it’s all Ken’s fault. In his email, which included a beautiful picture of him and his Found-on-The-On-Line-Dating site girlfriend, he said, “You would make a great friend. There are lots of lonely guys out there.” That’s when the “Why not?” floated into my head and I found myself clicking on the Subscribe Now button and that was the beginning and end of that.
Six months I have the pleasure of getting “flirts” from men with names like “FoxyFred” and “2Cute4Words”. But you never know, eh? Just maybe there will be one person in Ontario who is worth the money I plunked down and I’ll find someone to hang out with now and then. Needless to say, I’m marking my calendar for September 25 — six months from now — so I’m sure to cancel this before they take more of my money.