Wrong In The Tooth, Alright To Be Peeved.

I just had to give myself a filling. No, that isn't a euphemism for something sexual, there will doubtless be blogs aplenty on that particular subject if this all goes on much longer.  I had to actually put my hand in my mouth and push a small ball of something described as 'dental cement' into a hole in a tooth right at the back of my jaw. Like it's the 1600's or something. Assuming people did their own dentistry in the 1600's. Or any dentistry, really. I'm too irritated to google it, so I'm just going to assume that they all had access to Dentek. I don't know, the King would give it to them in exchange for a pig or something, ok? Obviously, I had to do this ordinarily-done-by-a-dental-professional task because of Covid Sodding 19 and it's ball-bagging lockdown. I wasn't mad keen on it before, but now I'm positively pretty peeved, and it has made me wonder what other little marvels of the modern world I might soon miss deeply.

I didn't pull a tooth, it wasn't this funny, and the facial hair was less sturdy

I'm not going to protest though, because I'm not an idiot. Staying inside as much as possible, alone, is the safest for everyone at the moment, so I will do it for as long as is needed. Of course. I shouldn't have to live in a world where people don't understand that, a world whose leaders ponder the efficacy of consuming disinfectant, a world that - I mean, you get it. Having said that, I am missing people quite a bit more than I thought I would. Turns out, it's hard to practice mild misanthropy when nobody's about. Not impossible though, the modern, 24 hour news, perma-connected world we live in, means I can tap in whenever I want to sigh heavily and shake my head. I have discovered I'm a fan of video 'hangs' though, and it might be the way humans are supposed to interface. You don't have to get up when they leave or anything. Could just be me.

If I'm totally honest, there have been a few aspects of the lockdown that I've quite enjoyed. I've been furloughed, which is brilliant because it means I'm in charge of scheduling. I may not be able to get the builders into my new house, but whenever I want, I can go and strip paper and paint walls and weep in a corner because I can't get the builders into my new house. It balances out, is what I'm saying. On the other hand, it was quite difficult to track down any paint or a roller, and there's nothing I want to watch left on Netflix, so I think you can understand the tightrope I'm walking here. However, even under the huge amount of self created stress that I am, I am also aware that I'm not running out of food, or reliant on other people. I'm getting full pay and I don't know anyone who has caught the virus personally. I still get to see my daughter and, after the bank holiday, I stocked up on loads of Easter eggs for a pound each. For each trough, there is a peak.


Clearly, I'm not having as hard a time as a lot of other people are, and I'm not claiming anything like that. But we're all getting hit in one way or another and I think it's important that you allow yourself a little self pity. A short wallow, maybe. Your discomfort is as valid as anyones. You may disagree, and I pity you the lack of pity. Fool. Or I'm jealous of your inner strength. Whatever. The point - other than what if I get an abscess - is that it's fine to feel frustrated, tired, angry, miserable, scared, bored, let down or whatever you're feeling on day 4,639 (I know, feels longer). I certainly don't think it's a good idea to ignore it. Sure, you can pretend it's not there for a while, but at some point you're bound to give up the yoga/jogging/painting, and then what happens? So acknowledge it, sit in it a while and sniff it's rich, self indulgent bouquet. Then stuff it full of Dentek and hope it'll make it until we can safely pay people to patch up the results of our poor decisions again.

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