Yesterday I went to a new dentist who scaled my teeth so decisively that I felt like she’d removed them from my mouth and run them through a sandblaster. She just got right up in there with her tartarhooks and gleefully just plowed my mouth. My whole skull was reverberating with the thoroughness of her calculus-blasting. She’s awesome. I’m debating inviting her over to tackle the grout in my shower.
My beloved Blundstone low-top shoes are falling to shreds- leaving actual chunks of the soles in a trail behind me like sad rubber breadcrumbs. The salespeople tell me they are much too far-gone to resole, and the style has been discontinued. Two years ago I saw an identical pair, in pretty good shape, in exactly my size, in a thrift store, but didn’t buy them because buying duplicate items makes me feel like a crazy cat lady hoarder. I deeply regret this decision. Duplicates of everything from this day forward! I will store my duplicates in plastic bins and stack them against the walls of my apartment in tottering piles!
Thank you Elliott, for directing my attention to whatever this is.