Distracted ❤️

When life sticks out a foot

Jan 18, 2026

red mercedes benz c class — Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

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I’ve been in the mood

to write some funny stuff but have had trouble getting myself to sit down and focus. See, life keeps getting in the way and distracting me.

You know the saying “Organized house, organized mind”? I think that’s a pretty pedestrian saying as far as sayings go. I mean, duh. No mystery there. But, it’s a thing, I looked it up. So. What happens when the house is full of month old Holiday piles?

Organizational Piles….

Granted, these piles aren’t just all over the place, willy-nilly! These piles are “organizational.” We can call the process a DeChristmas DeCrapping, because that is what it is. Piles, piles everywhere and not a place to hide them. The closets are full already! Do you have piles of Holiday gift bags that you have side eyed for use next year? How about those fancy boxes that seem to have been built with enough reinforcement to allow an elephant to stand on them? How does one throw those out?! So convenient. Just pop a gift inside and they already look wrapped with a bow!

Sometimes I get tough and chuck a few of those strong, pretty boxes in the Big Green Trash Bag. Then I pull a few out, cursing my weakness for the reusability of them. I am weak when it comes to reusability. I think I missed my calling and should have been born during the depression or WWll when washing tinfoil wasn’t considered super weird. What? We have dish washers to do it now!

My home has areas that are fully Holiday-fumigated. Not a sparkle to be seen. But then, the dining room still has its gorgeous HomeGoods Holiday outfit on (three layers!) complete with red candles and a few unused party poppers (who, I’d like to know, doesn’t pull a popper when given the opportunity?!). I think I have mentioned that I did iron twenty Holiday napkins for next year and a pretty big group of you said that you like ironing, too. So, who’s the weirdo now?

Currently, the worst are my “organizational” piles that are sitting in several corners of the living room. Oh, Uncle Bob apparently didn’t like his gift, I see. He left it. Perhaps several (dozen) stocking stuffers were abandoned and they are in the pile too. That pile will go into the “Might Be Good For Next Year” bag. They tend to stick around for a decade or so because I forget they exist and by the time I find them they are kind of gross. Then, off to the Big Green Trash Bag they go where they should have gone to begin with. I’d love to throw everything away, but I just can’t let myself. It’s too wasteful.

What do you do with your Post Holiday Piles? I am curious.

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I’ve got the piles down to just two now. And, I have stripped the table. The place looks like a denuded….I don’t know…something denuded that isn’t suggestive. The potential for creative thought started simmering. Then, life stuck its foot out…..

Broken tooth….

white candle on black textile — Photo by Bogdan condr on Unsplash

The weekend before last I was innocently eating something yummy when I heard a crack and something landed on my tongue. Whatever it was got swallowed. That was part of a tooth it turns out. Things started to throb. It was a Saturday and I was up in the country. I made an appointment to have it “looked at." Looked at. Ya. right. I had had some unpleasant dental experiences in the not too distant past. The words “can’t seem to numb it” were part of that equation. I am a dental chicken.

I love my current dentist. She is pretty new to me, but has been my husband’s dentist forever. It takes about forty minutes to get to her, but at least she’s fun to talk to and I trust her. That doesn’t mean I don’t sit in the chair reclining like a piece of plywood. If I took pilates my teacher would be so proud of how long I could hold a reverse plank. I am trying to seem relaxed. I keep my hands all loose and sort of lightly clasped. I mean, what am I supposed to do with my hands? I figure they are an anxiety level “tell.” So, best to keep them relaxed and I can tense my stomach and buns to prepare for any possible pain. I don’t want her to think I don’t trust her. It’s not personal.

So, the old filling’s gone, the pieces of tooth confirm what we figured: fully cracked and must be pulled. Pulled. There is something so old-timey about a tooth being pulled. That can’t be AI’d or outsourced. I picture an intaglio print of a person in a chair with a bonnet and black lace up boots flailing and someone with pliers and their foot braced against the shoulder of the patient, pulling with all their might. But, that wasn’t to be today. A temporary filling was filled and I am sent home to await the call of the oral surgeon.

Needless to say, I had really tired myself out with all that stress-planking and pretending to be cool. Plus at this point the tooth was tender. Isn’t this a fun piece I have written?

A day later, also a ways away, came the drilling, pulling, scraping, stitching. It took an hour and a half and though the only part that hurt was a shot, I cursed myself for not getting some Xanax from someone. Cursed. My. Self. People. There is no need to experience scary things fully when you can not do that to yourself and your nervous system with a little nibble of quick acting Xanax. By a huge stroke of luck I had been with my father the night before and he suggested he get a car to take me home after the procedure the next day. It never even occurred to me. So, I guess it’s true what they say: We never stop being parents. Thank you, Dad(dy).❤️

After the tooth pulling, gaping gross hole in my upper jaw, being productive was not on my personal menu for the week. A few days later my energy came back and my brain started to work there was hope again for creative flow. But, I had to drive back to get my stitches out and I was petrified that they’d have to hurt me and I should have brought Xanax and gotten someone to drive me and and and…calm down you nut job. It didn’t hurt at all.

I was so happy! I am free to roam for a few months until they have to put a post in etc etc…let’s not go there. The creative juices start to flow. I consider painting again. I shovel more piles into order. Pel is away, I can do nothing or everything! I eat pepperoni and pretzels for dinner. I stay up until 2 for no reason.

In the morning, I pack the car and decide to head north to New Hampshire. I’ll go skiing and write. See friends! I turn the car on to warm it up. I trick the kitty into her crate. I throw my bags into the car and the dog. We’re off! My little fur family and me. Think I’ll get a coffee. That’s funny. The tire pressure indicator says two of my tires are at “zero.” Ha. Silly car. That’s so dumb. I just drove down the street and it was fine. It’s a mistake. I hop out of the car to go grab my coffee cocky as ever. Daring to be relaxed.

Eh, so let’s see what’s going on over here, hmm? What’s up little car? Ha. Your tires are just fi…. Wait. What?! They’re flat? Two tires are flat. I’m not at home and I have two critters in the car staring at me. And it’s really cold out, like 2 degrees.

I call the car place and report my situation and that I’m not home. They say if I can make it, I should bring it in. Ok. Will do. Click.

Hey! Two flat tires here. I know you’re supposed to be able to drive for a bit on these new type tires but gee, these really do look flat. You’ll be fine. Just drive slowly. Ok. Click.

Me again! Two flat tires. I’m just sort of a bit concerned about how low these tires are, you know? I mean. Should I just get towed? Nah. You’re fine. I mean if you’re up for it. Well, sure, I can handle it. (questioning my bravery?). Ok. Well, keep it under 30mph and see you soon. Um, ok. Click

Hi! Just, yes, two flat tires. Yup I started driving but it occurred to me, it might really damage the car if the tires are too low, right? Oh, yah. Definitely. If you’re on the rims definitely don’t drive it. Do you mind if I send you some photos? Of the tires? Sure, no problem. I’ll stay on the line and send you my cel number. (take and forward pics to his text). Yup, those are flat, but I think you can make it. Um. Ok. Click

So I drive the back way with blinkers on royally pissing off my fellow Boston drivers for being slow and cautious. I don’t blame them. That’s why I went the back way. I get there with great relief. They have the tires which is sort of a miracle. I take it as a good omen. An hour and a half later I am back on the road!

So, you can see, I’ve been distracted.