I went to have my teeth cleaned today. As procedures go this is the least invasive of them all. As the hygienist was getting ready to begin I said, “If you’re not going to be gentle I’ll take the gas.”
“Give him gas,” came the disembodied voice of my dentist from the hallway.
NO2, aka “Nitrous,” pretty much simulates everything I remember from the sixties. Of course like most who were there I don’t remember lots of sixties detail.
I think I had a good time. Can’t be sure.
As my tooth cleaning was coming to an end the gas was switched from NO2 to O2. The idea is when you get out of the chair you shouldn’t be so stoned you can’t walk! There’s always a little residual effect.
The gas should be out of my system. It probably is. I still feel a little cream cheesy even at this late hour.
Maybe it’s just “Fridayitis?” Maybe my body is saying “enough” at just the right time? Maybe it’s too much stair climbing? I’ve made four roundtrips to the basement from my third floor desk today.
Helaine says we have nothing planned for the weekend. Perfect. That’s just what I’m looking forward to doing.