The Dangers Of Static Cling

Hi! I've been gone, off on a knitting weekend at a friend's beach house (yes, I DO make excellent friends, actually) with a bunch of knitters (duh), and I was going to tell you all about it, because riveting, I know. But first, I have to tell you about my dental visit, because riveting AND humiliating, all in one.

During the (fun! relaxing!) knitting weekend, a temporary crown came off my tooth. I had just had it put on there Wednesday, after sitting in the dental chair with people's fingers in my mouth for 2 whole hours - because really, I know how to have fun.

I knit during dental work - did you know that? It's the only way to get through it.

So, the crown came off, and for sure it has nothing to do with the fact that one of the knitters brought a pound of my favorite gummy bears to our little weekend retreat, so SHUT UP. I managed to squish it back on without passing out (but it was close, because OMG squeamish) and I went back to the dentist office this morning to get it glued back on until the real crown is ready.

All this talk about crowns is making me feel rather royal.

Anyway, I was running late, so I hustled upstairs and threw on jeans and a sweater fresh from the clean laundry basket (personal motto: dressers are for storing yarn, not clothes, duh) over my comfy leggings and shirt and ran out the door to my iced-over car. I scraped off my windshield (sort of) and managed to get to the dentist's just in time. Whew! Then I lay back in the chair and suffered more fingers in my mouth until the nice dental technician (really, they hire the nicest people there, with the exception of that one dental hygienist) said, "Okay! You're good to go! Just rinse over here by the sink and I'll walk you out."

So I gathered up my knitting (remember? I knit during dental work) off my stomach and sat up and got really confused because there was still yarn there? On my sweater? Or wait - under my sweater? Poking out?

Re-enactment

People, it was a sock. I was lying in that chair with a stray wool sock poking out from under my sweater the whole time. In fact, I must have walked into that dental office with that sock poking out from under my sweater.

So then I was trying to surreptitiously pat myself all over my sweater, looking to see if there were any other woolen lumps under there, when the dental hygienist came back in the room. "Everything all right?" she asked, probably puzzled to see this middle-aged dame feeling herself up in public.

And that is why I probably should have just stayed at that beach house...