The housekeepers have come and gone. I guess I hid the crap well enough. Now I’m going to have to un-hide it again so I can re-commence the de-crapification. Re-crapifying for the sake of de-crapifying. I’m like Jesse Jackson gone domestic.

But the house looks so nice, I’m not ready to re-crapify just yet.

Mister Bubby has a Court of Honor tonight for Boy Scouts. He’s getting his Tenderfoot or some such. I don’t know much about scouting. Elvis finally got his Bobcat last week, so we played pin the pin on the mom again. I don’t really understand why they pin the pin on the mom. I mean, I do, I guess, because Boy Scouts are all American and crap and Mom is American like her apple pie and boys love their moms and whatnot–I dunno, I reckon it’s something like that. But folks are always saying that they have to honor the moms because the moms work hard to help their boys do their scouting crap, and that makes me feel like a fraud because I have done exactly jack crap to help my sons with their scouting crap. Aside from volunteering for a total of two (2) days at day camp last summer, I can’t think of a single thing I’ve done to play a part in either son’s scouting career. So maybe I’m not who that pin is for. Maybe I’m not even American. I like apple pie, but I’ve never made one. That’s probably neither here nor there. But no one asked me if I wanted my sons to be Boy Scouts! Maybe I deserve a pin just for not saying no.

My husband, on the other hand, is very involved with the scouting thing. He probably deserves the pin more than me. If Mom isn’t there, they will have the boy pin the pin on Dad. But to pin the pin on Dad when Mom is standing right there might be gauche or something. Maybe it’s emasculating. Who knows?

Anyway, MB will be getting his Tenderfoot, whatever that is. Reckon I won’t be getting a pin or any other undeserved accolade this time.

Man, one of these days I’d like to get a deserved accolade. That would be a thing.

Anyway, in other news, I went to the dentist this morning. Teeth are feeling clean. The hygienist told me I had hardly any tartar buildup. (So that would be a deserved accolade, I guess, but where’s my freaking pin? I would wear that one with pride. HARDLY ANY TARTAR BUILDUP.) The hygienist is someone I go to church with. I might have told this story before. In fact, I’m positive I’ve told it before, but I’ve got nothing better to do and I’m getting old, so I’ll just tell it again. I used to have reservations about having my teeth scraped clean by someone I know socially. I mean, technically I also know my dentist socially and I used to have reservations about that, but at least the dentist only looks in your mouth after it’s been cleaned. The hygienist sees everything as it really is. So yes, I had reservations about that, and I had always hoped to avoid this particular hygienist, but one day I had an appointment on the day she was working, and what do you know, after the first minute and a half it’s not awkward at all. I’ve discovered that I prefer it, actually. This is probably because she’s always giving me accolades about my lack of tartar build-up. Maybe she only says that because she likes me. Maybe I don’t really deserve that accolade. But I like to think she has more integrity than that. Also, I like to believe that I have propelled myself to HARDLY ANY TARTAR BUILD-UP status. Even if I don’t get a pin.

And here’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for: I went to the oral surgeon yesterday, and I’ve decided that I’m going to have the surgery. The oral surgeon told me that my case was what they classify as “severe.” Not severe as in I’m going to lose all my teeth and die of teeth cancer or something, but he went through all the problems that people with my kind of malocclusion can have, and I thought, “Check, check, check…hadn’t thought of that one before but now I’m going to be hyper-aware of it, thanks a lot–check…” He wasn’t scare-mongery about it at all. He was very professional and matter-of-fact like professional people tend to be. He has beautiful eyes too, but that’s neither here nor there. (I just notice these things!) So anyway, he explained the surgery and the recovery process, and it was a lot less horrifying than I was anticipating. I mean, I’m not going to like it, but I’m firmly in the “Do” column now, whereas before I had one-and-a-half feet in the “Do Not” column.

Unless my insurance doesn’t cover it, in which case my firmness is somewhat malleable.

I mean, here’s the thing: I didn’t get braces for cosmetic reasons. Many people comment that they’d never noticed my teeth needed fixing. And yes, I do wonder if they say that to everyone. They’re hardly going to say, “Oh, good for you, it’s about time you did something about that.” But my teeth didn’t look especially crooked or hideous, and anyway, even if they were hideous, I’ve been hideous for years and I’m used to it. If I were going to do something cosmetic, I’d get a boob job, not fix my teeth. I have my priorities. But I got the braces to fix my bite and jaw problems, and any cosmetic benefit is just the icing on the cake. (In the event, God forbid, that I ever get breast cancer, I will make “new boobs” my survival mantra.) Right. Anyway. So after yesterday I am persuaded that it’s kind of lame to suffer through $5,000 and two years’ (at least) worth of braces in order to only half-fix the problem that I set out to fix. Before, I was thinking, “Well, I’ve been living like this for 40 years, what’s another 40?” whereas now I’m thinking, “It’s only going to get worse because that’s what getting old means.”

Now I’m going to get a whole new jaw and live out my golden years in luxury.

(Technically it is not a whole new jaw, just the same jaw moved about a centimeter forward. But you know what I mean.)