A Kick in the Teeth

WARNING: Today’s entry is an unusually autobiographic insight into the author’s emotional instability, love, and heartache. Please be aware that the following post is not funny.

For the past three days Oklahoma has emerged from the cold, bitter fog of winter and transformed into an amazing sunny, blissful koromogae. And although you might note that for the past eight years I’ve done nothing but bitch about the warm sunniness of Los Angeles, I am now truly enjoying the change.

However, this shift in weather has also coincided with a figurative kick in the teeth from my dentist. At the beginning of the month, I had the first of two appoints to create a crown for one of my molars which, due to a genetic gift which is my defective enamel and a constant conjunction of teeth grinding, had all but disappeared. Before we began this process, I was told my university insurance would cover 50% of the procedure (a whopping $900). OK, I can work around that. However, yesterday I received a call from my dentist explaining how they were wrong to tell me my insurance would pay for half, in fact insurance would pay for nothing, because I had the procedure TWO WEEKS before the end of my “waiting period” for the insurance to cover “major work.” Thus unexpectedly, I now have a heft bill to pay if I want my tooth back. But this is only the most recent of a string of financial hardships I’ve suffered in the last two months:

1. Car door keyed so deeply, it had to be filled and repainted. $300
2. Lost car key, replacement involved software, remotes, etc. $400
3. Computer collapses, dies unexpectedly. Must be replaced. $1400
4. Other car door is attacked by a pillar in a parking garage. $600
5. Tooth ground to nothing, replaced with porcelain. $900
6. Other molar chipped while eating gyros with Blythe, filled. $200

So long summer trip. So long new tennis shoes. So long savings account. Say hello to the “quick sell” isle of the grocery store.