(Men - proceed at your own risk.)
In my Saturday post, I wrote, “Where is my crown?”
I meant where is the crown I deserve for being a super cheap-ass furniture finding mo-fo.
The crown that goes on your head because you are the shiz-nit.
Somewhere, in some really evil parallel universe, a gnome read that blog post.
That gnome, apparently had dental issues. I wanted to know where my princess-y crown was. The location of my dental crown was not in question.
There was no reason for that parallel universe gnome to up-seat my crown. Yet he did.
Hours after writing that fateful sentence, enjoying a piece of chewing gum, my crown dethroned itself. That evil gnome ruined the crown’s self-esteem causing it to fling itself out of its secure post.
Today I spent 4 hours at the dentist with my mouth stretched wider than a cheerleader on prom night.
With a wedge of cotton in my mouth to stop some bleeding, I begged for a potty break halfway through the torture.
And really…. It’s Monday. My head is being drilled. Was that anytime for my Aunt to stop by for a visit?