After about 45 weeks of almost flawless fitment, my Invisalign trays started to get out of whack at the end of last month, specifically the top sets. Usually they go in with a nice satisfying click as they fit around the little nubs glued to your teeth (the trays need something to grab onto), but mine weren’t clicking. The tray was hanging down more and more to the point where I couldn’t wear them during the day because they gave me a horrible slobbering lisp. I checked in with the orthodontist, they rescanned my upper and lower palate, and I picked up two new boxes of trays the other day. When I put the top set in I got the click and they fit perfectly. I put the newest set in Tuesday night and I can tell they’re now working on moving my premolars outward to continue making room for the front teeth—which are almost straight—because the premolars are sore as shit. I’ve got about 30 weeks left in the series, which will put me somewhere around the end of the year for a straighter smile.
Watching (by accident) a special on PBS about the decision to drop the atomic bomb, featuring footage of a big shiny silver plane I stood next to yesterday.
Sitting in traffic this morning for an hour, watching a black van come hurtling past me in the breakdown lane, and thinking evil thoughts about the driver until I noticed the flashing lights in the rear windows and that peculiar stance that unmarked police vehicles have. Half an hour later, I passed this same van, still in the breakdown lane, as two heavily armed (!?!) U.S. marshals attempted to fix a
flat tire.
Sitting at my desk, working, and turning to see Penn, the Incarcerated One, sitting next to Teller, (who was just visiting) and quietly licking the top of his head. My heart sort of dropped a few feet. A few minutes later, they were rolling around the floor, locked in battle, pulling tufts of hair from one another.
Finding a client’s archived site on my main hard drive, in the wrong folder, and being able to restore their entire live site after hosting difficulties. (The same thing happened to me last year.)
I saw that exact van, and thought probably the exact same evil thoughts until I saw the lights, but I didn’t see them fixing a flat tire. Whatever.
Yeah, whenever you see two dudes in standard marshal gear (black windbreaker with U.S. MARSHAL in white letters) bp vest, and sidearm strapped to the leg Han Solo-style, you know you have bad mofos on the case.