For many years, we've been on a cash budget. Cash makes you realize that you're spending. We rely on one credit card for airline tickets and hotels and online purchases, and try to limit use of the debit card to weekly groceries and gas on special trips, like to Oklahoma, or the casino. Sweet Gummi Mary! I'd be in a world of hurt if I gave Farmer H free rein with the debit card!
Farmer H's allowance is $140 a week. That's fairly generous. He uses that to buy his gas, and his lunch every day at work, and assorted donuts and 1-liter diet sodas that he sneaks at Casey's, and Goodwill treasures, and small odds and ends at Lowe's for his shacks. If he scams some of that money and stashes it for junk-buying, fine with me. That's what he gets, and he has to make do.
Sunday Farmer H had two roofers come out to fix a small leak in the metal roof. I was under the impression that it was the roofers who actually installed the roof, who have already made one trip back to fix a leak on the back porch part of the roof. After they'd finished repairs and gone, Farmer H informed me that it cost $150.
"Wait. I thought they were fixing it because they forgot to do something. Like on the porch roof."
"HM. They're not going to come back and fix it for free forever. Anyway, that wasn't even the guys who installed it."
"You called someone ELSE?"
"No. I called the roofers who put the roof on. But nobody ever called me back. So I got these other guys that HOS knows. They're roofers."
"How did you pay for that?"
"With MY money!"
"You didn't tell me we'd be paying. So I guess you think I owe you $150."
"You DO!"
"Do you have a receipt?"
"No. Guys like that don't give receipts. They're friends of HOS."
"I don't have that kind of money laying around the house." (heh, heh, what Farmer H doesn't know won't hurt me)
"I figured you'll get it tomorrow when you go to the bank."
"Well, you're taking my Tahoe. So I probably won't go all the way to the bank in the Acadia, because it's awkward to reach the ATM."
"I have to get gas. I haven't gotten it yet."
"I guess you'll find a way."
So...later on Monday afternoon, Farmer H said he'd spent $25 on gas.
"Okay. So when I go to the bank, I'll get you $150 for the roof, and then I'll give you $115 for your weekly money."
"No. I get $140 a week."
"I know that. But you already got your gas with $25. So that leaves $115, and then on Friday, I'll give you $140 for NEXT WEEK's money, and we'll be back on schedule."
"NO, HM! You don't understand. I get $140."
"I'm GIVING YOU the $150 for the roofing money. Then $115 for your weekly money you said you hadn't spent yet, but you won't need $25 of it because you just got gas. Then on Friday, you'll get your regular $140."
"HM! I don't know how you can't understand this! I need $150 that I paid the roofers! Tomorrow. And that will be my money that you would have given me this week."
Oh, dear. What Farmer H is missing here is that I actually WAS confused, and I was going to give him an EXTRA $115. But because he was so belligerent, telling me I was confused (which I was), now he's just getting back the $150 that he gave the roofers. He's actually missing out on a week's allowance unless he comes to his senses and demands the regular allowance on Friday.
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
Monday, February 6, 2017
Visiting Hours End At 6:00 p.m.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom was without her best buddy, T-Hoe, today. She had to make do with A-Cad, because T-Hoe is being kept overnight for observation.
I think he will recover. He's getting his oil changed as an afterthought, but will need a new tire (which means TWO new tires, good thing Farmer H didn't take him to The Good Feet Store) because one has a slipped belt. Also, he needs an autoride suspension sensor (Farmer H could just be making up that part) transplant, but we think he'll remain on the donor list forever, since Farmer H had his shocks replaced before, but not the sensor part. Poor T-Hoe. Either his brake pads (I really need to stop tuning out Farmer H like he's Charlie Brown's teacher), or, I fear, his rotors, are 3/4 gone! So he'll need a rotorectomy and implants. Then there's the backup beeper sensor cleaning. It DID work for one day when we had him serviced at the dealer last year.
You know Farmer H is off an extra two days a week now, right? So he can take T-Hoe for repairs any time. But he chose TODAY, which is when I had planned to go to the credit union and the bank with The Pony's tuition money withdrawal and deposit so I could write an eCheck. Then Farmer H said T-Hoe may be able to come home this evening, but he was just shining Mrs. HM on, because T-Hoe won't be released until TOMORROW evening. So I will be off to town in A-Cad.
I don't dislike A-Cad. I just prefer T-Hoe. I don't know how to change all the gizmos and gewgaws in A-Cad. At least I have my radio stations programmed. The mirrors seem to show me the side of the car, no matter how I adjust them. The shifter is in the middle, not on the column, so I'm always reaching into thin air to park. AND the wizards who designed those cup holders with the three inflaty-bumps inside the hole are nuts. It's hard enough to make a foam cup squish the three inflaty-bumps flat, and harder still to pull that foam cup out of the holder. I shudder to think what would happen if I actually wanted to pick up my cup and drink from it while driving.
Yeah. I'm missin' my road buddy tonight. And I'll really miss him tomorrow, when I have to contort my arm up over the window sill and down to the money slot at the bank's ATM to get replacement cash for Farmer H. That's a story for another day.
I think he will recover. He's getting his oil changed as an afterthought, but will need a new tire (which means TWO new tires, good thing Farmer H didn't take him to The Good Feet Store) because one has a slipped belt. Also, he needs an autoride suspension sensor (Farmer H could just be making up that part) transplant, but we think he'll remain on the donor list forever, since Farmer H had his shocks replaced before, but not the sensor part. Poor T-Hoe. Either his brake pads (I really need to stop tuning out Farmer H like he's Charlie Brown's teacher), or, I fear, his rotors, are 3/4 gone! So he'll need a rotorectomy and implants. Then there's the backup beeper sensor cleaning. It DID work for one day when we had him serviced at the dealer last year.
You know Farmer H is off an extra two days a week now, right? So he can take T-Hoe for repairs any time. But he chose TODAY, which is when I had planned to go to the credit union and the bank with The Pony's tuition money withdrawal and deposit so I could write an eCheck. Then Farmer H said T-Hoe may be able to come home this evening, but he was just shining Mrs. HM on, because T-Hoe won't be released until TOMORROW evening. So I will be off to town in A-Cad.
I don't dislike A-Cad. I just prefer T-Hoe. I don't know how to change all the gizmos and gewgaws in A-Cad. At least I have my radio stations programmed. The mirrors seem to show me the side of the car, no matter how I adjust them. The shifter is in the middle, not on the column, so I'm always reaching into thin air to park. AND the wizards who designed those cup holders with the three inflaty-bumps inside the hole are nuts. It's hard enough to make a foam cup squish the three inflaty-bumps flat, and harder still to pull that foam cup out of the holder. I shudder to think what would happen if I actually wanted to pick up my cup and drink from it while driving.
Yeah. I'm missin' my road buddy tonight. And I'll really miss him tomorrow, when I have to contort my arm up over the window sill and down to the money slot at the bank's ATM to get replacement cash for Farmer H. That's a story for another day.
Sunday, February 5, 2017
I Used To Have A Tide Pen, But I Think It Gave Two Weeks Notice
Murphy's Law is the rule of the day at the Mansion.
Oh, who are we kidding? It's the rule 24/7, at least for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's life. No matter how she tries do stay on top of things, unMurphied, she still gets Murphed when she least expects it.
Let the record show that I have a favorite sweatshirt. It's kind of my ONLY sweatshirt, actually. It's baby blue, a crewneck, about four sizes too large now, nice and warm, starting to wear out at the cuffs. There's a little hole in the left cuff (hardly noticeable!) that makes a loop in which my thumb, or a kitchen drawer knob, often gets trapped. But I'm used to that. I can adapt.
Most days, I put on my sweatshirt over my regular shirt when I descend to my dark basement lair. Even with my underdesk heater, I feel the chill. It's probably 69 degrees down there, with the rest of the house being 70. Once my sweatshirt is on, it stays on for the day. I have to keep shoving the sleeves up as I'm cooking supper and washing dishes, but I'm in a comfortable bubble of warm air.
My sweatshirt is a bit faded. There's one little stain on it (I think that's pretty good, since I've worn it winter-daily for several years now. The spot is pretty recent, I'd say within the past six months. I tried pre-treating it with a paste of Tide, but unlike other similar efforts, that spot didn't come all the way out. I think it might have been some salsa from a Super Nachos lunch. Still, you can hardly see it, just a slightly darker spot on the upper left chest. If I wore a corsage, it would be hidden.
Since I never wear my sweatshirt out amongst the populace of Hillmomba, that stain doesn't really bother me. But the other day, I noticed my sleeves were getting saggier and saggier, and the cuffs perhaps a bit dingy, so I threw my beloved sweatshirt into the washer overnight with a load of towels. The next afternoon, I took it out when I was ready to go downstairs. So soft. So comfortable. So toasty warm.
I went out to walk, leaving my sweatshirt on, because the temps have been in the low-30s here in the evening. I wore a jacket over it, but I enjoyed the extra layer of insulation. I got Farmer H's supper ready, and took a snack downstairs for myself for later. On the snack menu that night was an individual pack of Cheez Its Cheddar Jack crackers, and a plastic container of Frank's RedHot Original Hot Sauce to dip them in. It's quite tasty if you like hot and spicy, and can handle the high sodium.
On the very last cracker, I dripped Frank's on my sweatshirt. The sweatshirt I'd taken out of the dryer only hours before. It's not like I planned to wear this sweatshirt to an awards dinner or had been invited for tea with the Queen the next day. But nobody wants towalk sit around in a sweatshirt with a fresh food stain on it, so fresh you can tell the food. I went next door to the NASCAR bathroom and treated the stain with water and soap until I went upstairs for the night. I know that Frank's is a tough one to remove. It even stains the plastic containers.
I treated that spot, about the size of a dime, in the area my hand would cover if I wore my sweatshirt to say the Pledge of Allegiance. The stain did not come all the way out, after two back-to-back washings, so I tossed it in the dryer, knowing full well that heat sets the stain. That means I was without my sweatshirt for my afternoon dark basement lair session. But when I went back up for walking and supper preparation, I removed it from the dryer to wear back down.
As soon as I sat down at my desk, I took some ice I'd carried down in a red Solo cup, pried the plastic lid off my 44 oz Diet Coke that I'd added, as always, a bit of Great Value Sugar Free Cherry Limeade powder to, and prepared to cool down my drink for the evening hours of sipping.
First ice cube...PLOP!
The spray of agitated, Cherry Limeaded, Diet Coke spewed forth and left SEVEN pink spots on my clean sweatshirt.
I'm wearing it now. It can wait a few days for laundering.
Oh, who are we kidding? It's the rule 24/7, at least for Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's life. No matter how she tries do stay on top of things, unMurphied, she still gets Murphed when she least expects it.
Let the record show that I have a favorite sweatshirt. It's kind of my ONLY sweatshirt, actually. It's baby blue, a crewneck, about four sizes too large now, nice and warm, starting to wear out at the cuffs. There's a little hole in the left cuff (hardly noticeable!) that makes a loop in which my thumb, or a kitchen drawer knob, often gets trapped. But I'm used to that. I can adapt.
Most days, I put on my sweatshirt over my regular shirt when I descend to my dark basement lair. Even with my underdesk heater, I feel the chill. It's probably 69 degrees down there, with the rest of the house being 70. Once my sweatshirt is on, it stays on for the day. I have to keep shoving the sleeves up as I'm cooking supper and washing dishes, but I'm in a comfortable bubble of warm air.
My sweatshirt is a bit faded. There's one little stain on it (I think that's pretty good, since I've worn it winter-daily for several years now. The spot is pretty recent, I'd say within the past six months. I tried pre-treating it with a paste of Tide, but unlike other similar efforts, that spot didn't come all the way out. I think it might have been some salsa from a Super Nachos lunch. Still, you can hardly see it, just a slightly darker spot on the upper left chest. If I wore a corsage, it would be hidden.
Since I never wear my sweatshirt out amongst the populace of Hillmomba, that stain doesn't really bother me. But the other day, I noticed my sleeves were getting saggier and saggier, and the cuffs perhaps a bit dingy, so I threw my beloved sweatshirt into the washer overnight with a load of towels. The next afternoon, I took it out when I was ready to go downstairs. So soft. So comfortable. So toasty warm.
I went out to walk, leaving my sweatshirt on, because the temps have been in the low-30s here in the evening. I wore a jacket over it, but I enjoyed the extra layer of insulation. I got Farmer H's supper ready, and took a snack downstairs for myself for later. On the snack menu that night was an individual pack of Cheez Its Cheddar Jack crackers, and a plastic container of Frank's RedHot Original Hot Sauce to dip them in. It's quite tasty if you like hot and spicy, and can handle the high sodium.
On the very last cracker, I dripped Frank's on my sweatshirt. The sweatshirt I'd taken out of the dryer only hours before. It's not like I planned to wear this sweatshirt to an awards dinner or had been invited for tea with the Queen the next day. But nobody wants to
I treated that spot, about the size of a dime, in the area my hand would cover if I wore my sweatshirt to say the Pledge of Allegiance. The stain did not come all the way out, after two back-to-back washings, so I tossed it in the dryer, knowing full well that heat sets the stain. That means I was without my sweatshirt for my afternoon dark basement lair session. But when I went back up for walking and supper preparation, I removed it from the dryer to wear back down.
As soon as I sat down at my desk, I took some ice I'd carried down in a red Solo cup, pried the plastic lid off my 44 oz Diet Coke that I'd added, as always, a bit of Great Value Sugar Free Cherry Limeade powder to, and prepared to cool down my drink for the evening hours of sipping.
First ice cube...PLOP!
The spray of agitated, Cherry Limeaded, Diet Coke spewed forth and left SEVEN pink spots on my clean sweatshirt.
I'm wearing it now. It can wait a few days for laundering.
Saturday, February 4, 2017
Now Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Is A Pusher
You'll never believe what Farmer H has accused me of now!
Last night when I went to bed, I was dismayed to see that Farmer H had all the covers on his side of the bed again. It was like that time he returned from one of his overseas spy missions. I mentioned it on my not-so-secret blog:
I walked from the master bathroom toward the end of the bed, to go around to my side away from the door. In the dim light, I saw the wedding quilt my grandma made for us draped from the Hick burrito all the way to the carpet. Draped like a fine Paso Fino mane. Magnificent in it's drapage. Which meant that my side of the bed, in all its short-sheeted glory, was also as bare as Old Mother Hubbard's quilt cupboard. Let the record show that when you lie on your side, the cover should come down over your body, not end along an imaginary line from shoulder to hip to ankle. Forget about my heart growing cold while Hick was away. My body grows cold now that he's back.
I climbed into bed last night, resigned to shiver. This morning, I stayed abed for a while, having commandeered almost my fair share of quilt and blanket when Farmer H's body left some slack while he showered and snuck out of the Mansion to go to town for breakfast. I was so snug, I didn't want to get up. I heard him return. I made no bones about jumping up and pretending I had not slept in.
"I'm just laying here being warm. Except for my left foot. It's still cold, with that draft coming in, because you had all the covers. They were draped all the way to the floor."
"I did NOT have all the covers, HM."
"Saying so doesn't make it so. You can see right there if you look!"
"All I had was enough to cover myself. You had just as much as me. Unless maybe you're talking about the feet. I can't help it that you shove them over. Every night I straighten them so it's even. Then you do something when you come to bed."
"Huh. I have to turn the covers back to get into bed! And you're saying that I'M the one who makes them drape over your side to the floor? How can I even DO that? I'm not a wizard! You're saying I PUSH a quilt and blanket from my side to yours, so then they drape to the floor."
"HM. Don't be silly."
ME silly? How does his mind even work? I stayed in bed a while longer. When I got up, I saw that while Farmer H had been standing bedside talking to me, he had lifted that part of the quilt up and folded it back over the mattress, so it just looked messed up, rather than hanging to touch the floor.
Last night when I went to bed, I was dismayed to see that Farmer H had all the covers on his side of the bed again. It was like that time he returned from one of his overseas spy missions. I mentioned it on my not-so-secret blog:
I walked from the master bathroom toward the end of the bed, to go around to my side away from the door. In the dim light, I saw the wedding quilt my grandma made for us draped from the Hick burrito all the way to the carpet. Draped like a fine Paso Fino mane. Magnificent in it's drapage. Which meant that my side of the bed, in all its short-sheeted glory, was also as bare as Old Mother Hubbard's quilt cupboard. Let the record show that when you lie on your side, the cover should come down over your body, not end along an imaginary line from shoulder to hip to ankle. Forget about my heart growing cold while Hick was away. My body grows cold now that he's back.
I climbed into bed last night, resigned to shiver. This morning, I stayed abed for a while, having commandeered almost my fair share of quilt and blanket when Farmer H's body left some slack while he showered and snuck out of the Mansion to go to town for breakfast. I was so snug, I didn't want to get up. I heard him return. I made no bones about jumping up and pretending I had not slept in.
"I'm just laying here being warm. Except for my left foot. It's still cold, with that draft coming in, because you had all the covers. They were draped all the way to the floor."
"I did NOT have all the covers, HM."
"Saying so doesn't make it so. You can see right there if you look!"
"All I had was enough to cover myself. You had just as much as me. Unless maybe you're talking about the feet. I can't help it that you shove them over. Every night I straighten them so it's even. Then you do something when you come to bed."
"Huh. I have to turn the covers back to get into bed! And you're saying that I'M the one who makes them drape over your side to the floor? How can I even DO that? I'm not a wizard! You're saying I PUSH a quilt and blanket from my side to yours, so then they drape to the floor."
"HM. Don't be silly."
ME silly? How does his mind even work? I stayed in bed a while longer. When I got up, I saw that while Farmer H had been standing bedside talking to me, he had lifted that part of the quilt up and folded it back over the mattress, so it just looked messed up, rather than hanging to touch the floor.
Friday, February 3, 2017
Doggone Farmer H
Puppy Jack is an adolescent now, and he's showing it through his behavior and attitude. Yesterday, he durn near nipped off my nose while reaching his head under the stair rail while I was stretching on the porch steps. He was trying to snap at Sweet, Sweet Juno's ear, and she twisted her head behind mine as I bent over. I scolded Jack, but he didn't seem to care.
Jack thinks every time I have a phone in my hand, it's to take a picture of him. Even at night, when I walk out on the porch to make a previously-taken picture send from my phone to my email. He sits down to pose. If I WANT to take a picture of him, he's all hyped up like a ferret on crack, and can't stay in frame.
Farmer H is not helping. A few years back, he lost my Sweet, Sweet Juno. She had followed him when he took the Gator to load some sand from the second low water bridge where the creek floods all the time. Almost back to our EmBee turnoff, a dog ran out from a house, and scared her into the woods. Farmer H didn't tell me until almost sunset, after Juno had been missing since mid-morning. He and the boys searched all day, and lucky for Farmer H, he went back to that house as a last resort, and the #1 Son heard something in the woods, and walked over and started calling for Juno, and she crept out to him.
This morning, Jack tried to follow Farmer H to town. IN THE CAR. No. Jack wasn't driving the car, but Farmer H was, instead of his Gator. Jack ran all the way down to the blacktop county road where EmBee resides in her mailbox condo. As Farmer H drove the Trailblazer up the hill, Jack started running after him.
"I watched in my mirror until I got to that house by where Juno got lost. Finally he turned and went back. I was afraid he was going to follow me all the way to town. I guess he's used to me going up to HOS's trailer, on the other gravel road. Now he follows me in the car, too."
I am apprehensive. Jack is also a car-chaser. I've only caught him at it twice, here on the gravel road in front of the Mansion. No good end will come to him down on the county road. Besides, somebody might take him! He's just ugly enough to be cute, you know.
We are considering an intensive shock collar reprogramming session.
Jack thinks every time I have a phone in my hand, it's to take a picture of him. Even at night, when I walk out on the porch to make a previously-taken picture send from my phone to my email. He sits down to pose. If I WANT to take a picture of him, he's all hyped up like a ferret on crack, and can't stay in frame.
Farmer H is not helping. A few years back, he lost my Sweet, Sweet Juno. She had followed him when he took the Gator to load some sand from the second low water bridge where the creek floods all the time. Almost back to our EmBee turnoff, a dog ran out from a house, and scared her into the woods. Farmer H didn't tell me until almost sunset, after Juno had been missing since mid-morning. He and the boys searched all day, and lucky for Farmer H, he went back to that house as a last resort, and the #1 Son heard something in the woods, and walked over and started calling for Juno, and she crept out to him.
This morning, Jack tried to follow Farmer H to town. IN THE CAR. No. Jack wasn't driving the car, but Farmer H was, instead of his Gator. Jack ran all the way down to the blacktop county road where EmBee resides in her mailbox condo. As Farmer H drove the Trailblazer up the hill, Jack started running after him.
"I watched in my mirror until I got to that house by where Juno got lost. Finally he turned and went back. I was afraid he was going to follow me all the way to town. I guess he's used to me going up to HOS's trailer, on the other gravel road. Now he follows me in the car, too."
I am apprehensive. Jack is also a car-chaser. I've only caught him at it twice, here on the gravel road in front of the Mansion. No good end will come to him down on the county road. Besides, somebody might take him! He's just ugly enough to be cute, you know.
We are considering an intensive shock collar reprogramming session.
Thursday, February 2, 2017
Farewell, Old Friend
"The time has come," the Momster said, "to speak of many things.
Of pounds and pounds and more said pounds, and changes such loss brings.
And why I needed new sweatpants to cover my hamstrings."
"What's going on?" Sweet Juno thought, "for you to stand so still?
Here on the porch, and right beside, the two black Weber grills?
And why am I trapped next to you, and held against my will?"
"What the eff--you stupid dog! Go! Get away from here!
It's hard enough to take this pic, without you up my rear.
Now run along, go find our Jack! Play with your spotted peer."
"Sweet Gummi Mary! I declare! You gave me such a start!
To feel that movement underfoot--be still my beating heart!
To let me stand upon your tail! I thought you were more smart!"
"I've got to mark the moment now, when I retire my clothes.
Wise choices for a solid year! And finally it shows.
I've built myself a new physique...like sheds with stuff from Lowe's."
There you have it. A goodbye to my loyal old sweatpants. Hole and all. As much as I still try to wear them, they fall right off. Suspenders on sweatpants are not a good look. Oh, the many nights we spent together in my dark basement lair! I shall miss my longtime companion.
My sweet, sweet Juno will miss those hairs from her feathery tail. How she got her tail under my foot I'll never know. Unless she was crowding in, trying to prevent Jack from getting closer to me, and I tromped on her tail as I stepped back. The sun was so bright I couldn't even see the picture I was getting on my phone screen.
We won't talk about what Jack was doing during this time. That's a story for another day, and maybe another place.
Of pounds and pounds and more said pounds, and changes such loss brings.
And why I needed new sweatpants to cover my hamstrings."
"What's going on?" Sweet Juno thought, "for you to stand so still?
Here on the porch, and right beside, the two black Weber grills?
And why am I trapped next to you, and held against my will?"
"What the eff--you stupid dog! Go! Get away from here!
It's hard enough to take this pic, without you up my rear.
Now run along, go find our Jack! Play with your spotted peer."
"Sweet Gummi Mary! I declare! You gave me such a start!
To feel that movement underfoot--be still my beating heart!
To let me stand upon your tail! I thought you were more smart!"
"I've got to mark the moment now, when I retire my clothes.
Wise choices for a solid year! And finally it shows.
I've built myself a new physique...like sheds with stuff from Lowe's."
There you have it. A goodbye to my loyal old sweatpants. Hole and all. As much as I still try to wear them, they fall right off. Suspenders on sweatpants are not a good look. Oh, the many nights we spent together in my dark basement lair! I shall miss my longtime companion.
My sweet, sweet Juno will miss those hairs from her feathery tail. How she got her tail under my foot I'll never know. Unless she was crowding in, trying to prevent Jack from getting closer to me, and I tromped on her tail as I stepped back. The sun was so bright I couldn't even see the picture I was getting on my phone screen.
We won't talk about what Jack was doing during this time. That's a story for another day, and maybe another place.
Wednesday, February 1, 2017
3 Days, 2 Nights
Don't call shenanigans! I'm postponing today's original post idea until tomorrow. I have a headache/jaw ache that is kicking my butt. It's been an ongoing problem since Monday. I have diagnosed myself with a sinus issue. For those of you who torture yourself by asking an old person, "How are you?" I provide the following details.
The pain is really in my upper left jaw, along and above the teeth. At first I thought I might need to see the dentist. I do have a broken tooth in that area. BUT it's not a localized pain like a toothache. Heat and cold don't bother it. The dentist could squirt that air torture device on it, and it wouldn't faze me. So I got to looking on the innernets, and saw that a sinus ailment can make your teeth hurt. That swollen sinuses can actually displace the teeth, so your bite is off!
THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED!
I had a little headache on Monday, as I'd had on Sunday, that didn't seem to go away. And when I closed my mouth (heh, heh, it DOES happen) it felt like my teeth were too long! So I wondered if a part of one was cracking. About to break off. I couldn't chew on that side because that REALLY hurt. As did simply closing my mouth so the teeth were in contact, uppers against lowers.
Depending on which way I laid in bed, the pain was worse, or better. It was a constant pain, not throbbing until last night, when I could only sleep from 5:00 a.m. until 9:30. When I bend over to stick my head in the dryer (not a cry for help, but to get my clothes I haven't folded and put away), the pain intensifies until I stand up. My ears are stuffy, and pop when I blow my nose. Which has been running almost constantly on the right side, but not the left. I don't smell very good (heh, heh), not even noticing the aroma of onion on my fingertips, or the fragrance of shampoo in the shower. I can't seem to blow the congestion out of my nose. What runs out is clear.
A few weeks ago, Farmer H had some illness that sent him to Not Very Convenient Care. He was up and down at night. Crying that the pain in his teeth was driving him mad. He'd get up in the middle of the night and get in the shower for the steam. Let the record show that he also had a terrible cold, and yellow snot, but that he had his sickness for a couple weeks. He got a Z-pack and something else, and was better in about three days.
I might have a milder version of Farmer H's ailment. Last week I had a sore throat for one night. The next night with constant phlegm draining down my throat. A few days with chills and hot flashes. Then the sore teeth. And a sore neck in the back. The only relief I get is from a little vibrator (hush up!) with four little round foot thingies, which I hold on my forehead and nose and ear and jaw. That takes the pain away while it's on there. But it does return.
I'm pretty sure it's sinus related. I'm giving it until Friday before I seek treatment. Or maybe Monday.
The pain is really in my upper left jaw, along and above the teeth. At first I thought I might need to see the dentist. I do have a broken tooth in that area. BUT it's not a localized pain like a toothache. Heat and cold don't bother it. The dentist could squirt that air torture device on it, and it wouldn't faze me. So I got to looking on the innernets, and saw that a sinus ailment can make your teeth hurt. That swollen sinuses can actually displace the teeth, so your bite is off!
THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED!
I had a little headache on Monday, as I'd had on Sunday, that didn't seem to go away. And when I closed my mouth (heh, heh, it DOES happen) it felt like my teeth were too long! So I wondered if a part of one was cracking. About to break off. I couldn't chew on that side because that REALLY hurt. As did simply closing my mouth so the teeth were in contact, uppers against lowers.
Depending on which way I laid in bed, the pain was worse, or better. It was a constant pain, not throbbing until last night, when I could only sleep from 5:00 a.m. until 9:30. When I bend over to stick my head in the dryer (not a cry for help, but to get my clothes I haven't folded and put away), the pain intensifies until I stand up. My ears are stuffy, and pop when I blow my nose. Which has been running almost constantly on the right side, but not the left. I don't smell very good (heh, heh), not even noticing the aroma of onion on my fingertips, or the fragrance of shampoo in the shower. I can't seem to blow the congestion out of my nose. What runs out is clear.
A few weeks ago, Farmer H had some illness that sent him to Not Very Convenient Care. He was up and down at night. Crying that the pain in his teeth was driving him mad. He'd get up in the middle of the night and get in the shower for the steam. Let the record show that he also had a terrible cold, and yellow snot, but that he had his sickness for a couple weeks. He got a Z-pack and something else, and was better in about three days.
I might have a milder version of Farmer H's ailment. Last week I had a sore throat for one night. The next night with constant phlegm draining down my throat. A few days with chills and hot flashes. Then the sore teeth. And a sore neck in the back. The only relief I get is from a little vibrator (hush up!) with four little round foot thingies, which I hold on my forehead and nose and ear and jaw. That takes the pain away while it's on there. But it does return.
I'm pretty sure it's sinus related. I'm giving it until Friday before I seek treatment. Or maybe Monday.
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