Stress test

I used to wake up in the early morning and find that I was positioning my jaws in order to threaten the roots of certain teeth.

I can't remember or physically re-create the action.

Sometimes, I would dream about it. Waking and sleep can be tenuous and mixed.

This grinding out of teeth was a huge fear of mine. As a kid and in general, I do smash my teeth together in waking life. It's like exercise, but I think it may have lessened.

The fact that I don't do this super-death-grind nor remember how to means something positive.

On an unrelated note, I think that the president (any) has a body double who goes and tries on new suits to make sure they fit, without wasting very important time.

So my body has transferred my stress from my teeth and conscious brain (and stomach) to my arteries, heart and other places. Yay?

It's interesting to me that the cardiologist called once, and the cat-dentist has called at least four times asking, "Are you coming in for that test/operation?" I find the former interesting, since I get all kinds of mis-dials on my number . . . the (human) healthcare industry does not need to fish for clients, but you would think they would have time to call more than once or send a robo-letter. Also, perhaps, the fact that veterinarians make you pay right away, with relatively few pet-havers having pet insurance, makes a difference in the profit-chasing. I don't like to accuse any health-care provider with going for the money, but my experience has shown me nothing otherwise.

The dental students who gathered at the Wichita-girl's dad-bought home last night for a "wine party" that was louder and included more varieties of alcohol than any I recall from my own college (the four-year part, not the post-grad) experience … and even if you subtract from the perception/generalized "20" that my husband who went there said said so, those kiddos didn't vote Tuesday nor see any reason to.

I am supposed to go get one of those heart stress-tests. Was supposed to do that about two months ago at this point. No one cares there, though, and I have little faith. The result is Sandy-esque, but I still want to know the answer to the whole Holter monitor affair. Didn't I buy that? Actually, I have not received any bill for that, just for the week-before E-room dealy.

Meanwhile, I have yet to compel anyone to process our 2011 taxes. They were on extension, but that's been expired for about a month. The IRS will get around to telling me so before Christmas, I expect. If I liked my former accountant, or if my prospective one had called me back . . . oh, and if I could actually pay my self-employment portion of 2011, umm, yeah.