Recovering

I've been a little groggy the last couple of days, following some major dental work, not my favorite way to pass the time. Some of my dental problems can be traced back to the year I was 22 and eager to move to London for a time. I had a toothache, but ignored it, focusing on getting organized for the trip, getting my plane ticket ($425 round trip, by the way, more than it costs today), storing my stuff at various locations.

Almost as soon as I got to London, my painful tooth forced me to seek treatment at the Royal Dental Hospital. I sat in a dental chair, one, as I remember, in a long double row of dental chairs full of patients. The tooth was extracted in a quickie procedure, without charge. I do think my dentist at home would have saved it. I still wonder why I thought I could ignore the toothache, rush off to London, and not suffer any consequences. Kind of an irrational moment (the kind I occasionally recognize in my own kids).

Anyway, I've missed a day of practicing and a rehearsal, but feeling better now, especially after a gorgeous day of warm sunshine, and eager to play again.