November 12, 2009
I trudged outside to search the car and it wasn’t there. Remember that. It will be important later. It. Was. Not. There. If it was there, I would have seen it, because it lives in a sizeable fluorescent orange container. It’s pretty easy to spot.
I began looking around the car in the dark, but then I remembered that a killer is on the loose in my area, so I decided it wasn’t a great idea to be hanging around outside at night wearing nothing but a long t-shirt and bedsocks.
I slept fitfully. (Actually, I slept fine, but it sounds better to say ‘fitfully’, and besides, it helps to justify the exorbitant cost of the mouthguard.)
This morning I awoke, thinking of my mouthguard. (Actually, I was thinking of my coffee and toast, but that doesn’t progress the story as well.)
I hustled the kids out to the car to go to school, and when I opened the car door, my mouthguard was there. Did you read that? It. Was. There. I was elated and disturbed at the same time, because, though I was thrilled to have my mouthguard back, I knew that something very strange had occured.
When we arrived home from school I put the mouthguard in my pocket. Remember that. It will be important later. In. My. Pocket. I picked up toddler and my bags and went into the house.
About ten minutes later I realised I couldn't remember where I'd put the mouthguard, and it was no longer in my pocket. I was not pleased. I searched the house. I examined every corner and the mouthguard wasn’t there. I even enlisted the Toddler in my hunt.
“Find my mouthguard!” I told her. “It’s orange!”
“Mama loss a moufgud?” she asked. “Oh no!” She helpfully presented me with an orange plate, an orange bowl, an orange crayon, and even an orange. When I explained gently that these items were, in fact, orange, but not a mouthguard, she seemed bewildered, and a little hurt.
In the end we gave up, and went out to the shops. When we got in the car, the mouthguard was there.
My head started to spin. I looked around for cameras, a ghost, a dentist... anything to explain the unexplainable.
But there was no making sense of it. I rubbed my temples, put the mouthguard into my handbag, did my shopping, came home, and put the toddler to bed.
And now I sit here, handbag is at my feet, terrified to open it.
Will the mouthguard be there, in its fluorescent orange case? Or will it have shifted again, through time and space, to the bedroom, my pocket, my car?
I don't know, but for now I'm going to have a little lie down. This day has done my head in.
And besides, my jaw is aching.
September 21, 2009
I'm thrilled about getting a mouthguard. Obviously I'm happy about saving my teeth from extinction, but most importantly, I feel it will do wonders for my relationship with my husband. Our bedtime routine has been lacking a bit of spark lately, and I feel a mouthguard is just what we need to get us back on track. After all,
- A mouthguard screams sexy. It screams role play. It's a bit Bondage and Discipline, muddled up with Doctor and Nurse, all tied together with Tough Boxer Chick.
- A mouthguard screams confident. A woman with a mouthguard knows who she is. She has priorities (you know... her teeth). She's so damn secure in herself that she couldn't care less what she looks like, she's gonna wear that thing no matter how horrifed anyone is (using 'anyone' in the sense of 'the man lying next to her').
- A mouthguard screams successful. This is a woman who has a lot in her life. After all, teeth grinding is about stress, and stress isn't brought on by nothing. She has a lot of something. She's got the world on her shoulders. And she's handling it. In her mouth.
- A mouthguard screams mysterious. It's like a burqa for the mouth. There's a hint of what may be in there, a whispered promise of what's inside, but it's guarded, hidden by a bit of plastic. And only the invited can look beyond.
Really, the mouthguard is the new black. I may be an early adopter, but give it a few months and I reckon everyone will be wearing one. Life is stressful, and teeth are important, and we need to protect them from ourselves.
More importantly, though, we all need a bit of sizzle back in the bedroom.
I can assure you, my husband isn't going to know what hit him.