Opinion: All I want for Christmas...
ONCE again I am appalled by how quickly time passes as I grow older.
It really seems like only weeks ago I was writing the previous Christmas column.
This year has been a horror show for many reasons and while I know it's not good to wish away the days, this time I've allowed myself to anticipate the arrival of 2016 with some hope that things will improve - both personally, for many of my friends, and on a global scale.
As usual, the universe has been keeping a close watch on my finances.
Apart from being paid megabucks to write for this newspaper (cough, cough) I am, among other things, a freelance graphic designer.
An old client recently contacted me after a four-year hiatus: They had been taken over by a multi-national and had found someone in-house to replace me.
I was pleased they asked me to resume my old role; apart from the income, it's a prestigious product that looks good on my CV.
They were in a pickle with deadlines and asked me to help out.
Of course I said yes and have been flat out getting the work done before Christmas.
The sum they are paying me is not insubstantial and I thought how good it would be to be able to put money in the savings section, and not the spendings bit.
Alas, it was not to be.
Late last week I woke with an ominous throbbing in an upper front tooth.
An emergency trip to the dentist confirmed I had an abscess in the same spot I'd had one 20-odd years ago.
Back then I'd needed a particularly unpleasant operation to fix it, and was warned should it recur, I'd lose the tooth.
And last Thursday the dentist confirmed that dire prediction.
So I'm now on massive doses of various antibiotics designed to get me through the Christmas break without a fairly noticeable gap in my smile and am holding a quote for an extraction (shudder), a temporary partial denture and a dental implant that totals exactly $100 more than the contract for the work I am doing.
Now, I've always been a glass-half-full person so I am choosing to feel blessed that I am earning enough extra to afford the procedure.
My initial instinct was to hurl myself face down and throw a hissy fit, but what good would that do, really.
But as I write this column there is a song running through my head that goes something like …
All I want for Christmas is my one front tooth.
Have a merry and safe Christmas and please, don't drink and drive.