Monday, April 16, 2012

Novacaine

Do you know how you hear about something but don't really think about the ramifications of that thing you heard about until you are confronted with the reality of the thing? I refer, of course, to the newly opened dentist's office right next to my studio.

A month or so ago, I noticed that the suite next to my studio was alive with action. Being sociable enough, I wandered in and said something like "Hi, I work next door and just wanted to say hi." The person I was talking to told me her name was So-and-So and that she was a dentist. "Cool," I respond. "Maybe I can get a cleaning sometime." (I say this more as a courtesy than an actual plan--everybody knows if you drink enough beer you don't have to go to the dentist)

"Oh no," she replies nonetheless. "It's a pediatric practice."

So, occupied with my own shit, I sort of tuck this in the back of my brain and don't really think about it until this morning, about quarter of ten, when I stumble into the studio to begin whatever it is that, when I refer to it as my 'workday', people roll their eyes and snicker in a mean-spirited way.

And let me tell you, Dear Reader, the caterwaulling that's coming under my front door and through my east wall is astonishing. These kids are screaming. What's up with that? Are they just yanking the teeth out willy-nilly? Without the benefit of modern pain-management products? Then, every once in a while, there's a deathly quiet. Like the silence of the lambs.

Which is disconcerting.

Me? I'm listening to my Stevie Wonder album at a relatively high volume. "Fulfillingness First Finale," for you completists. Which works fine, for what it is. But I sometimes like to paint in silence too.

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