I got up at 4:30 with Cory and took a shower, and grabbed some coffee, and we went to the Greyhound bus station downtown. We got Cory a ticket and waited around for fifteen minutes or so until Cory went to board, and I left him there. Then I drove surface streets as it started getting light outside, and looked at houses and pretty tree-lined streets, and listened to the honeymoon CD that's still in the player (Shot through the heart, and you're to blame! You give love a bad name!). Eventually I made it to my old neighborhood, off SE 143rd and Market. I parked down the street and walked around the old cul-de-sac, looking at all the changes it's gone through since I lived there 5 years ago. It looks a lot smaller, which is weird because before this morning I tended to think that you remember things as bigger than they are because you were a small child and they really WERE bigger. But now I think it's because if you have a memory you value, it gets blown up inside your head. (That's blowing up as in getting bigger and more valuable, not exploding.)
So I walked around and saw evidence of a few old neighbors still living there, and a lot of new neighbors with small children in several houses. It was nice to walk down that way, and walk to my old bus stop, and remember things.
Then I hopped back in the car (Not to put too fine a point on it... say I'm the only bee in your bonnet...) and started driving the back roads to Dad's house. I was still pretty early (6:30am and I was supposed to eat breakfast with him at 7:30) so I stopped at Cherry Park elementary school down the street from his house and sat on the swings for twenty minutes until my ass got numb (those things are NOT made for grown-ups' rear ends) and then I let myself in to Dad's house and read the morning paper until Dad woke up.
Their house is different too. I don't think I'd been there for almost two years because of the weirdness between Dad and me. But it looks pretty good from my fledgling-decorator's standpoint (I'm just starting to pull together the apartment, and it's an interesting process - I don't know what I like and what I don't like yet, for the most part). Dad woke up and made eggs and toast, and I picked up the new cheese grater that I accidentally left at my aunt's house before the wedding, and I showed him my honeymoon photos. And then it was time to go, really quickly, and I ran and brushed my teeth and drove to the dentist's office.
(I've come to the conclusion that Dad is pretty happy about "getting back together" with me, and missed me at least a little while we weren't speaking. I'm glad about that.)
So I got to the dentist's office with barely three minutes to spare, and sat and waited for almost fifteen minutes for a hygienist to come and get me. My regular doctor was out sick for the day, which disappointed me because I wanted to thank him, but I guess paying as much as I did for it is thanks enough. :) The hygienist flushed out my holes and had to use tweezers on one of them because there was a bit of something stuck in there. And she gave me my own little syringe to flush things out with. The doctor came in and almost freaked me out, he was so stuck in the early '90s. He had a navy suit on with a burgandy shirt and an almost burgandy tie (they were close, but not THAT close, in color) and his hair was feathered in the front in that scary '80s-pseudo-professional kind of way. Eep. But he looked at my holes and said they all looked good, and I told him I wasn't taking pain pills to sleep and my muscles weren't sore (my muscles were sore a couple of days ago, and now I know it's a normal occurence) and I wasn't having any trouble at all. So I was in and out quickly. The ride back to work was uneventful, as has the rest of the day so far.
So I have 3.5 hours left. Why is it that short days (albeit one measly hour less) always seem longer? Probably because it seems like I'd been working for four hours before I actually was.