What could be better than a two-hour endodontic treatment to re-do a root canal that costs as much as your monthly budget?

Why, the second part of the appointment next week for another two hours, and my first speeding ticket!

Everybody drives like they’re escaping the zombie apocalypse on the highway between London, Ontario and Sarnia. Then, suddenly, just inside the city limits, almost everybody slows right down to that posted 100 kmh. Because they know what’s going to happen. Except the woman with the lucky dice. And they are lucky: my ticket is for 20 kliks over the limit instead of the 30 I was doing passing that huge truck.

And now that woman knows, too.

I will confess to no more without a lawyer versed in the stress of dental treatments, the temptations of old Van Halen songs, a smooth road on a sunny day, and a not-fast-enough transport truck.

What do you do when you have had dental work and the joy of a speeding ticket on the same day?

I sprung for the “medium care” car wash, and bought a sack of potato chips to eat for lunch, with the bottle of cola I’ve been saving since my birthday. I have also gone amok and now have soft pitas and hummus for supper. With another glass of cola, no doubt.

It’s 31 degrees Celsius outside, with a humidex of 40.

My mouth is still partly frozen. I have spilled pop down the right side of me.

Je ne regrette rien.

Meep! Meep!

BANANAS! And a Head Transplant

For two days now, my Del Monte breakfast banana has announced, by way of a very small sticker, that I could WIN a FREE BANANA COSTUME. I have given this some thought, and I have some questions for the fine folks at Del Monte, and for you!

First of all, who has ever heard of winning anything that one then has to pay for? I am not caffeinated sufficiently before breakfast, but even then I’d know that if this prize wasn’t FREE, there would be a scam brewing. Second, why would anyone want a banana costume? Thirdly, if I went online (after securing the use of an electron microscope to read the exact web address) what guarantee would there be – if I were the lucky recipient of this largesse – that I’d receive one in the appropriate plus size?

Maybe you have always dreamed of wearing a banana costume. If so, go to the Del Monte banana website and get in on the draw. I’m telling you now that your desire might be a mistake. You can’t get up or down stairs in a banana costume. You can’t use a toilet. Your arms, constricted, are as useful as the mitts on a Tyrannosaurus rex. No leaving the house without banging your stem on the doorframe, either, and you’ll be rolling yourself into brown bruises down the stairs. And forget the bus. Forget driving a car.

All you would be, friend, is enslaved in the plastic wrap and padding of an advertisement for Del Monte bananas.

I eat bananas, cut up in a bowl, with toasted bagels, for breakfast, because potassium is good for me. I cannot abide the aroma (I would be more honest calling it the stench) of a ripe specimen of this fruit. I’m lucky my local No Frills sells them green. They taste fine to me the way I like them. Odourless. Two or three mornings a week.

Something else that’s odourless is whatever it is that’s causing me and a few other persons I’ve heard hither and yon to find ourselves in a sudden, desert-dry, eye-popping, tear-inducing, gritty-twine-around-the-windpipe, death-grip, choking cough, precipitated, my doctor and pharmacist say, by allergic post-nasal drainage gone awry. I’ve had to spend a chunk of change on a prescription for a night-time nasal spray. I have had to double up my 24-hour over-the-counter morning tablets. I’ve been spending large portions of the night upright on my couch.

And do you know what provides the most relief? Werther’s hard candies. Whenever the tickle starts.

Which is why sleeping’s been a problem. Who’s awake to unwrap and suck on a candy when they’re sleeping?

But things are looking up. I have been on the new nasal spray and allergy meds regimen for a week now, and my cough is diminishing. All the muscles involved in clearing blockages and inhaling large quantities of oxygen are tip-top, too, and my ribs don’t hurt anymore. Most days now, I don’t even cough hard enough to pee my pants even once.

I give it one more week, and then I’m calling my physician to ask for one of those newfangled head transplants.

If you see me around in a banana costume, breathing easy all day and night, you know I got one.