" Yes, all four quadrants, damnit!"

I don't believe I could have said it any louder than that - and shouldn't have done so because there was people around - but the girl at the receptionist desk in the dental office was starting to pinch a nerve.

" Yesh, all four quadranches," I said. I had bloated lips (or what I felt like bloated lips) and could barely move my mouth. I couldn't close them either and was afraid of slobbering all over the counter, so I smothered my mouth with my hand.

She didn't bat an eyelash.

" Are you on medi-care?" she said.

" Excush me?" I said.

" Medicare?"

I shook my head. " Debit."

She raised an eyebrow. " We only take credit."

" Debit, credit, whatever. " Already I felt guilty for overreacting, so I said, " Ish been a damn, long day."

She ignored me. " That'll be three hundred dollars."

" Yesh."

I waited for the swipe of the card and the chit-chit-chit of the receipt printing and the riiiiiiiip! as she tore it off and handed it for me to sign. I swooped down on it with my uniball, slid it back over the counter and was waved out toward the exit to searing, white freedom (with my swollen lips).