I knew my pleas to split it up into two days would be useless in the face of my husband's perfect logic: Why ruin two days instead of one? Why spend money on a hotel room when we can sleep in our own bed at mom and dad's house?
So we left at 5:00 AM and got there at 11:30 PM. But there's no real need to feel sorry for me because I've developed some pretty good coping mechanisms over the years. My first strategy (and the most effective one) is simply to conk out. Sleeping for four hours takes an 18 hour drive to a 14 hour drive. Much better. My other strategies are to call people and chit chat on the phone, listen to podcasts, and.... munch on munchies!
There's just something about eating junk food on a long car ride that makes the trip a bit more enjoyable. That's why when we stopped to get gas, I came out of the rest stop with some Skittles and some gum.
I happily tore into the Skittles after lunch. I told Max I'd eat the first half of the package while he was busy polishing off the Doritos. I was almost at the end of my candy allotment when I felt a loud crunch in my mouth.
I moaned. This was either going to turn out to be a really stale lemon Skittle, or....
...my tooth. My crown, to be exact. The crown I'd had put in to the top right hand side of my mouth a mere two years ago by my incompetent dentist. So I spit out the lemony mass, and salvaged the crown by wrapping it in a napkin in my purse. When I looked in the mirror to survey the damage, this is kinda what I saw:
Okay, so I don't really look like that, but in the absence of an actual picture from my camera, you'll just have to trust me that I am now Hillbilly Sarah (at least until I see the dentist tomorrow).
There are three good things to come of this:
- THANK THE LORD it didn't happen until after my ten year reunion. My vanity could not have handled it!
- There's no pain involved.
- This is a golden opportunity to convince myself and others that the best thing for my poor mouth right now is to just eat ice cream until my dentist's appointment.