Monday, September 15, 2008
I am sitting on the couch watching West Wing reruns on the Hallmark channel. My tongue gently probes a dull, but insistant ache on my bottom left molar. I'm drawn to this ache. I wonder what it looks like; how deep can it burrow into my jaw before it begins to affect my sanity? There's a long patch of dull in the script where Josh and Toby are once again screaming at each other in strings of meaningless acronyms that I assume will leave CJ with some pretty tough explaining to do in the briefing room.
My attention drifts. I glance out the window.
The background soundtrack in my head screeches to a sudden, dissonant halt. What the?
One of these things is not like the other.
My molar sinks a root deeper into my mandible, lashes a nerve around the rot, and throbs casually as if to say, "Quite a while actually. You've just been too busy to notice."
And I wonder has nature always been this obliging with the easy metaphor? Have I really just not been paying attention before now?
The rot of Autumn. The rot of tooth decay.
The impending Winter, which sucks not unlike this creeping tooth ache. I may have some time--a few weeks, a month maybe--to enjoy the brisk mornings and the vibrant color, to ruminate on the poetry of decay--but eventually I'm going to have to deal with the mountain of crap that's marching right behind it, and, chances are, it's going to sting a bit.