This morning my jaw feels like I got too close to the wrong end of a donkey (is there a right end?). You see, I had a filling done yesterday and for 12 hours I thought it was a technical marvel of modern dentistry – the least amount of discomfort for a filling I’ve ever experienced. Now I’m just sore.

As I’m bibbed, laid back and mouth cranked open, the dentist whips out a tiny, seemingly harmless probe and taps it on my gums next to the targeted tooth. Seconds after that he pops into my peripheral vision with a larger needle with a tube running from it and heads straight for my mouth. I’m expecting the pain but to my surprise there is none. The first tap was a quick local where the larger needle was to go in. I couldn’t feel anything, obviously due to the spreading freezing agent, but he did manage to move my whole head by shifting his hand slightly. Which made me wonder just how deep in was this needle. As I speculated that the needle was well under my tooth, a machine behind my head started to sing.

It was like being in a cockpit of a jet aircraft experiencing a crash landing. The first alarm was a female computer voice saying “PLB!” Or “TLC!” or something. I was told that was short for “I Stab at Thee, Vile Tooth!” or some such nonsense. Basically a reminder of what the dentist was about to do – either upper or lower single tooth anesthetizing. After that, three distinct tones played out over the machine: One “ta da!” ping to tell the dentist that the needle was indeed inside the ligature under the tooth, one “doo dee doo dee doo” ping to let the dentist know that freezing agent was being delivered to the nerves and a bizarre steel drum “da tah da!” to signal the finish.

So I was left for 3 minutes to let my single tooth to come accustomed to the freeze. After that, nothing. No pain, no discomfort, nothing to even complain about. The tip of my tongue was numb but the rest of my face was normal, compared to the last few fillings I’ve had that have rendered me a slobbering idiot. The drilling and the filling took less than 25 minutes and by the time I had taken the elevator from the 19th floor to the street, the freezing was already subsiding.

Today, as I said, my mouth is sore but nothing to get all dramatic about. I expect that will subside soon.

I can remember my first filling where all I can recall is a huge syringe, rubber dams, the room filling with the smell of tooth dust, enamel and fear and finally, me fainting in the waiting room on my way out the door. Like teens today not experiencing non-remote control tv, they’ll never know the horror of the importance of good dental hygiene.

My Ono-Sendai Deck

This morning I transferred over the last of the files from the PC to the Mac in a bizarre dance of wireless acrobatics across our N network. Yes. It took me a week. See PCs generally don’t come with a Firewire plug and I couldn’t find any male to male USB cords.

I shut down the PC for the last time and started to unplug everything from the back of the beige brick. As I did I thought of all the artwork, websites, letters, pictures, anger, sadness, fruitless searches, laughter and stupidity I’ve experienced with this one computer. After over 6 years and 4 reinstalls, two major viral attacks, various upgrades I can’t help but think how it’s been a good run. Not that I’d run back to a PC any time soon but you never forget the thing that got you there.

Yank – the keyboard is unplugged. Glurk – the Bluetooth mouse is out. Schtuck – out come the jumble of speaker wires. Glik – Ethernet cable. Scruhscruhscruh – Monitor disconnected.

Hey wait a minnit… Thinking I could add the monitor to the iMac for a second screen – palates and Mail, I sat and started to surf to see what kind of adapter I needed.

As I searched, SharkBoy and I simultaneously stopped and looked at each other.

It was quiet. We could hear things out on the street. The tap dripping in the washroom. The cats snoring.

For the last 6 years (3 years for Sharkboy) the two fans that run the processor and the video card on that old PC have been a constant drone, a soundtrack to my home life. I knew when things were being processed or the insides needed a dusting from a blast of canned pressurized air,  just by the tone of the fans. Now it was silent. Like, deafeningly silent.

With the iMac, I hear… nothing. My fingers are the most noisiest thing in the office as I type on the chicklette keys.

Why didn’t I do this sooner?