20150609.0728

The dental appointment I had yesterday went well. My teeth got their semi-annual cleaning, and the dentist reported that there were no problems with my mouth--at least, none medical. The dentist is the wrong kind of doctor, though, to know about the problems I do have with my mouth--and, as rarely happens, I am the right kind of doctor for it. It is a small victory, to be sure, but it is a victory, and I value it therefore.

I will be getting the Mrs. and Ms. 8 back today, something which I also value. The past few days have not been bad ones; I have gotten some things done that I had been putting off, things that are more difficult to do while watching a little one (although, admittedly, not so many as I should have liked). Having a small taste of bachelorhood again was useful; it reminded me that I can function independently, even now, but it also served to remind me how much the Mrs. and Ms. 8 add to my life. Sherwood Cottage has been all too empty without them, my own work in it limited and a heaviness settling upon it that is too unwieldy for me to lift alone. Having the additional hands working will help greatly.

Having been alone these last few days has also reminded me that my tendency is to withdraw from things. I could have gone out to bars, either for coffee or for beer, but I did not. Instead, I stayed home, not leaving Sherwood Cottage all that often. I did talk to people, and I wrote such that others could see it (as witness the last few posts to this webspace), but I remained firmly and easily within the familiar. Not that it was entirely comfortable to do so. I know I should get out more and be around new people more often, that I ought to explore what is on offer in this place, little though it may well be. (I hardly know; I don't get out much.) But I somehow always convince myself that I should not. "I can't afford it," after all, and "I never really enjoy it when I do, or hardly ever, not enough to spend the money." And these things are true, so I stay home, bemoaning my isolation while doing not a damned thing to get around it and indeed reinforcing it, the arguments hardening habits.

It is fortunate, then, that I have the Mrs. and Ms. 8 in my life. I'd not amount to much without them, really; it is through them--and mostly through the Mrs., honestly--that I am connected to the world (except for my regular job, but that is in abeyance at the moment, and there are limits to connectivity imposed by avowedly temporary employment, even when coworkers are such excellent people as mine are). Without them, I would have my little place on the planet, but very little else. It does not seem a good thing...