Mind-Muddle

Muddle:  To confuse mentally; befuddle, as with alcoholic liquor.

Yesterday I called the dentist's office to get a more through explanation on the estimate.  They kind of cleared up the mind-muddle but not really - I was still confused.  I got up this morning and I was still upset so I knew that the action I had taken wasn't going to cut the mustard.  I didn't enjoy the first action so you can imagine I didn't fancy any additional unpleasant action.  I did some writing - still upset - and I made some phone calls.  I wasn't sure what to do, vacillating wildly between doing nothing and doing all the recommended work, between never talking to the dentist again and calling up and giving them a piece of my mind.

Willie called back, both a blessing and a curse, but mostly a curse.  He listened to me talk.  He empathized and he laughed at me and he came up with a couple of suggestions, both requiring me to call the office again and get yet more information.  I wanted the advice.  I want guys who know me to tell me what they think.  I can take the advice or I can leave it alone - it's not like anyone has a gun to my head.  My friend Loveland was in town for a day this weekend and we went to a meeting together; he told me: "I want people to take my inventory.  Tell me what you think I'm doing wrong.  I can't fix it if I've got it justified in my own head."

I called the office again and was decidedly un-upset after the call.  I'm heading in tomorrow to get some of the most pressing work done.  It took a while for me to get to that decision.  I had to hang out with the discomfort until the solution presented itself and I had to do the work to be in a position to get that solution.  I was lost on my own.  When I was drinking I would have gotten good and drunk and simply buried the whole problem deep down inside.  Worries about my teeth would have been another one of those hundreds of nagging termites ceaselessly devouring my insides.

Now, I'm not saying that I'm looking forward to the solution . . .