"Did You Have a Nice Afternoon?"

That's what Hubby asked me when I got home this evening. Normally, I'd appreciate his interest in finding out whether I'd spent a pleasant day, but not so much today.

Does your spouse pay attention? Mine doesn't. Sometimes, like he did today, he tries to fake it, but he's never very good at it. I could tell right away that all Hubby knew or remembered was that I'd been gone all afternoon doing SOMETHING, but he hadn't a clue what that was--even though I'd actually told him at least two--maybe three--times ahead of time.

Want to know what made me realize he wasn't paying attention? I suppose it was probably the fact that I'd spent the afternoon at the dentist, getting stuck with needles and drilled before having cords that taste like stiptic pencil wrapped around my tooth. And then having gel harden in my mouth, sticking my teeth and lips together, except for the one opening between my lips where drool dribbled out and onto my chin for four and a half minutes. And just in case that wasn't fun enough, I was asked to pay an outrageous amount for the pleasure of this E ticket ride. So I was pretty sure, rather quickly, that when Hubby inquired about my afternoon, he had absolutely no idea what I'd spent the afternoon doing, because no one in their right mind could ever think my afternoon's experiences might have been "nice."

Thank goodness I still have plenty of pain meds left over from my carpal tunnel surgery.

My face hurts. My left knee hurts too--it nearly gave out on me a few times this evening when I stood up. Why? I've been amusing myself--after the pain meds kicked in--by imagining that maybe my knee hurts from all the kicking I did while the dentist sat on my chest, a drill in each hand, instructing his assistant to strap my head to the chair and handcuff my hands to the arm rests.

But maybe not. Maybe it didn't happen that way, even if my body FEELS like it did. I suspect I probably strained my knee tensing up or something. Since I've been known to injure myself just sleeping, I guess it's possible. Hopefully my knee will feel better in the morning. But, if not, I still have pain meds.

And that reminds me. When I sat down in the living room with Hubby this evening and made a little groaning sound from the pain, he asked, "What's the matter? Did you eat too much?" Seriously? How have I let him live this long? I wonder if I can get Hubby's doctor to recommend he have a colonoscopy soon?

I go back to the dentist in two weeks for another round of fun. If the dentist finally kills me then and if I haven't killed Hubby first, please, someone, propose me for sainthood, okay?