I finally received a referral from my current dentist to put my implant tooth back and screw it tight. The tooth had fallen out ten days before, and he eventually made a plan and referred me to a specialist in York. This was after I had the worst night, waking up at 2 am with my tooth floating around my mouth. Thank the lord, I didn’t swallow it. But I was extra stressed at the thought that I had broken it, and I could not go back to sleep.
The following day I sent a desperate email to the dentist with a picture of my escapee tooth. Thankfully he confirmed it wasn’t broken and would refer me to another practice to fix it back in place. (My implant was done in Vietnam, and only one dentist was willing to help) Ten days later, I finally had my appointment.
I headed to the city on Tuesday morning, but it was packed with school holiday traffic and people. I used my usual car park. New to the UK, I still not use to diving down these narrow roads and navigating the tiny car parks. I am terrified of scratching hubby’s beloved car. As I walk to the dentist, dodging strollers, tourists, cyclists and children. I received a call from work asking if I could cover the shop as the guy working was sick. I said yes, agreed to the afternoon shift and would be there as soon as I was done at the dentist. Of course, the dentist was late. Then he started umming and ahhing if he could reattach it or not. I started stressing, sweating and worrying he might change his mind. He eventually put the tooth back in and screwed it super tight. My jawbone is still sore and bruised, but I am not toothless anymore and happy to deal with the pain. I had to wait for him to write a disclaimer saying he takes no responsibility if the tooth breaks. Of course, I wouldn’t blame him. He was helping me as no one would. I was thankful.
I race back to the car and pay for parking. I then had to navigate and squeeze out of the car park as two vehicles blocked me on either side, trying to steal my parking spot. My stress levels increased, and I started sweating more as I was millimetres from scratching the parked cars as I passed them on my left and the other driver inched past me on my right. He wasn’t going to lose the parking spot. I was finished. I exited the parking lot. But what I failed to realise was I left my debit card in the parking card reader because it wasn’t a tap and go—stupid me. I raced to work. I was late, and I hated being late.
After work, I raced to shop and realised I had no card. Thankfully I had some cash from a marketplace sale. Then I started trying to figure out where was the last place I used my card. I was lucky no one used it, and I was able to block the card before someone could do some damage to my limited bank balance. I am now cardless. I can’t do anything. Hubby has his cards in London.. I dont know how to draw cash with no physical card. I’m told it’s possible. But I’m technologically behind with the contactless, cardless new-age lifestyle. We worked with cash notes in Vietnam, it was a culture shock arriving in the UK, and no one wanted to serve you. I had to open a bank account online and couldn’t apply directly at the branch. Regardless of being cashless, I now have the hassle of changing card details for all my payments which I can’t do until the new card arrives in the post. It will probably be delayed due to Royal Mail postal strikes. Pray to the almighty I dont miss payments; I dont need a black tick on my name.
I thought my week would get better, but it didn’t. I sold my washing machine, which was good. I had to sell it because I can’t take my washing machine as our new rental has one. I had arranged to do some washing at my friend’s house. I took a bag of clothes with my detergent. But my friend wanted me to try the Bold 3-in-1 pod. She said it smelled great. She wasn’t taking NO, so I obliged. Once done, I placed the wet washing and my detergent back in my bag to hang and dry at home. What I didn’t realise is the washing pod I brought with me was dissolving slowly whilst sitting in between wet clothes. I arrived home and found a handful of items that needed to be rewashed, rinsed and wrung out to dry.
I had to put that idea on hold, 1st I had to attend to my urgent nature call. My tummy was upset. I felt better after completing my business, ready to tackle the clothes. But to my shock, I seemed to have produced unflushable, undestroyable and unsinkable number 2. Ten flushes later, I was done. I’m checking the loo and analysing its flush. I concluded it was not blocked, and it was taking the toilet paper away. For some odd reason, it didn’t want anything to do with my load. I was baffled, trying to figure out the cause. I’m laughing, rolling, thinking about all the crap and that my crap won’t leave. Kids are floored as I tell them my problem. I decided I was going on the attack with a massive detergent blast. Finally, I sink the unsinkable. I am victorious! I am ready for my bed, the kids are still laughing and are nowhere close to sleeping, and I remember I still have to wash dishes and rinse my laundry. This will give the kids time to settle and forget my issue.
Of course, I forgot my washing machine was gone, and we didn’t turn the pipe connector upwards, and it was facing down. I start running the hot water to heat up, and a sea of water starts pouring out the sink cupboard. Then it finally dawned on me where it was coming from. I grab my last dry towel to try to mop up my F-UP. Turn the valve upwards, and my next problem is resolved. Dishes washed. I’m chuffed. I dont need a man to fix my issues. I’m ready for the last task before bed, rinsing the clothes. I make my way back to the toxic zone, gas mask required. Feeling invincible, thinking nothing more can go wrong? Sure, I rinse clothes by hand, strangle the water out of each item and hang them over the shower rail to drip dry. Shower rail crashes, clothes everywhere, the shower curtain races off the rails and me looking somewhat dumbfounded at the sight. Kids are hysterical at this stage. They have watched me tackle the unflushable, witness kitchen flooding and now the attack on the shower rail. There is no way they will sleep now. I re-attach the rail with elephant strength super glue and a “Boer maak a plan” attitude to find an alternative drip dry hanging space.
I have decided I should not tackle any more tasks tonight and get my weary butt in bed and hope for a better day tomorrow. I am not sure if I will have a good night’s sleep. I am still traumatised by the unflushable product I produced.
Who knows what crap tomorrow may bring, but I know I can overcome any hurdle thrown my way and laugh about it afterwards. If you don’t laugh, you will cry. Laughter is better for the soul.
Hugs
Lil Rascals Travel Adventures 