This week of quarantine/shutdown/PandemicLife was tough. I posted a short article about it on Medium.com. You can read it here.

On Wednesday, I went to the dentist. I had not previously gone to this office; thus, I was forced to endure scads of mouth x-rays. Somehow, the leaps and bounds in technology have skirted the nation’s dental practices. Thus, after a hygienist mutilated, errrrrrrr, cleaned, my teeth, it was time photo time!

Incredibly, the x-ray process was a replica of the one I experienced when I was a kid at Dr. Carbo’s office. After the tech placed a lead vest on me, she asked me to bite down to hold in place a long plastic rod with a circle at the end (for the machine to snap 67 candids). The problem–both then and now–was that the plastic device brutalized the inside of my mouth. I think the technique was outlawed for use during questioning of enemy combatants.

9-1-1 operators are dicks. Last week, as I was walking to an outdoor coffee shop to meet with my business partner, I saw a traffic accident. No one was badly injured, but there was a lot of damage to one of the vehicles. I dialed 9-1-1, and the operator’s curt questions made it seem like he was quite annoyed I had done so. My call must have interrupted the dude’s Solitaire game.

Recently, I heard someone say, “[NAME] is sleeping with [NAME].” This euphemism must stop. Unless one is in the company of children, let’s cut the crap. The two are having sex. Boom. That wasn’t so difficult or scary, was it? Do not fret–you’ll not be ex-communicated from your religion or vacate your spot in heaven.

I will conclude this pleasant and positive post on a different note. Occasionally, I hear single-engine planes flying above my apartment. The sound reminds me of the planes that fly along beaches and have long banner ads attached. I smile as I reminisce.