March 13th, 2002. Wednesday

 
    The highlight, and probably the lowlight as well, of today is a trip to the dentist. I haven't been to the dentist in almost three years. The last time I went, I ended up having to go three days in a row. A few fillings, four, count 'em four root canals, and a mess of novacaine later, you'd think I'd have decided to go back more often. But now. A big part of that was that I didn't have dental insurance for quite some time. Another part is that I didn't really see a need since nothing was wrong with my teeth. Nothing's wrong now, but I can tell they need a cleaning. Ok, maybe it's because my gums have a tendency to blead as soon as the toothbrush hits the mouth. But I'd've know regardless. I don't know why I have a history of such bad teeth. I brush every day and night, and often between meals. I don't floss as much as I should, but really, who does? Anyway, I like how my mouth feels after a visit to the dentist. It hurts, but, you know, it's a good hurt. Let's you know you're clean. At the same time, I'm not really looking forward to the part where the hygenist says "Ok, rinse," and I spit and see about 20% of my current gum mass go swirling down that little drain. Another problem I have there is that i never swallow, i just let the saliva build up. it's gross, but it beats the alternative. I spit a lot anyway. I just don't like to injest any fluids I don't have to.

   I just had a rather disgusting lunch, and now I'm feeling like I should go get some gum or a mint or something before going to the dentist. It's kind of like how people clean their house before the cleaning lady arrives. My family used to employ cleaning women. They quit. I'm not sure why. We also used to have a guy drive up to our house to sell us fish. Once a week. Ken S. Buller, I think his name was. He was always "the fishman" to us. Sometimes my mom wouldn't want any fish, and we wouldn't answer the door, and maybe sometimes we'd watch as he'd stand there for a while and then finally walk away back to his truck. I always felt kind of sorry for him. I hate lying to people, even passively. I still hate it when my roommates tell me to say they're not home when someone calls. Maybe that stems from the fish man. That'd be interesting. He did sell nice, fresh fish though. Better than anything from the store. He finally retired about ten years ago. There was a little story about him in the paper. What an antiquated idea. Drive around in your truck selling fish? For some reason I always liked to go out to the truck and see what he had. I never did that when the Schwan's frozen food guy would should up. I've forgotten all the weird little features of suburban life. Anyway, I think the fish man did allright for himself.

   So I've spent the last several minutes looking for informatino on this fish man. I wonder if he's still alive. I can't quite recall his name, but I've found a telephone number I think might be his. I'm tempted to call and see. But I think it would weird him out. So I think I'll just leave him alone.
 
 
 

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