Notes on daily life

My new dentist and hygienist do not tell me to floss my teeth. It's about goddamn time. I didn't do it when I was eight, nor when I was twenty six, so why would I start at thirty one? And also? Because I have perfect teeth and haven't had any cavities, I suppose the rational response I could give if my dentist wanted to insist that I floss would be "Why?". Not flossing has been working really well for me for the past three decades.
When I was in the washroom at the dentist's office (availing myself of the mouthwash that they set out for apathetic people like me who can't even be bothered to brush their teeth before their appointment) I spent a lot of time looking at the picture displayed there. It really, really sucked and it got me to thinking about how this print ended up in the washroom of a dentist office in North Van. It was just really bad. It had no redeeming qualities and didn't make any sense (and it wasn't abstract). The more I stared at it, the worse it appeared and the more perplexed I became. I ended up being in the washroom a lot longer than I had anticipated. The colors were bad, the subject matter was confusing (two large pots from which sprung odd looking ferns), I wasn't sure what I was supposed to focus on and I had a lot of questions. And I also think the artist's depth perception was off. So why was this print put into production? And, moreover, why did someone buy it? At least they had the good sense to hang it in the john, but still. If you really don't have a clue then just buy a Matisse print or a Monet or something. Monet is great in doctors' offices. And it was really large, this picture, like four feet by three feet. The more I think about this, the more I think I would like Po to come with me to see it, because it's a spectacle and it's concerning me. Obviously.
Okay. So lastly I would just like to say how funny it is to see a cop car going down Lonsdale. It was doing the speed limit, maybe five kilometres over and you could see all the cars behind it keeping their exact distance, unable to bring themselves to pass the cruiser. It was like a slow, anxious, ill-attended motorcade.
I am now going to watch "Jerry McGuire" because I've never seen it.
Rock on.