I'm so happy.....and so sad......and happy... and so on and so forth....

So, today has been a fabulous/horrible day. It kicked off this a.m. with some searing, stabbing jaw pain. I expected this. The dentist warned me yesterday that I would need at least two fillings, if not two root canals. So, I popped 800 mg of Advil and slunk into work, waiting for the edge to get knocked off of my jaw pain.

I soon was distracted, as I heard that raises and bonuses were coming down the pipe at the M. So distracted that I forgot to call the endodontist to schedule a consult for my throbbing jaw pain right quick this a.m.

I have to admit, I wasn't expecting a raise or a bonus because, well, I'm me. I don't get raises. I get fired. Or laid off. Or have to leave my job unexpectedly due to extenuating circumstances. Plus, I'm on at least one person's "watch list," a word I'd hoped to never have to use in my jaded post-AOL world.

Still, I found myself bitterly disappointed when the other two associates got the good news and it didn't appear anyone would be knock-knock-knocking on my office door to spread the holiday cheer.

When it appeared all was lost, the managing partner popped into my office for a closed-door meeting. This, I have to say, was the only time I have ever welcomed a closed-door meeting. I mean, what are the odds that they'd fire me midday on a Tuesday? I've been laid off first thing in the morning on a Monday, and summarily fired after 5 on a Wednesday. But, that's neither here nor there.

The managing partner shared the excellent news that I was, in fact, getting a raise!!!! And the heavens opened up, angels sang, and a bright light shone down so brightly that my eyes teared up from the glare. I love the M!!!!!!

After practically skipping outside to have a celebratory smoke and telephone my 'rents to share the good news, I became aware of my swollen right lower jaw once again. And then I got down to business. The endodontist scheduled me for a consult at 3 p.m., warning me that they would require full payment for the $95 consult fee up front. No problem. I just got a raise. Wink wink.

After a brief consult and a look at some x-rays, they narrowed the problem down to one tooth. The other tooth did not, in fact, need to be filled, much less root canaled. (See, HLC, I told you your dentist overtreats. Nine cavities, my ass.)

He then offered to book me for mid-January or immediately. I thought about delaying it to January, and then pictured myself sitting round the electric fireplace at the cabin in the woods, surrounded by my irritating family with a pain so excruciating that I'd murder just about anyone if it meant I'd have a little relief. I opted for immediately. Then I asked how much it would cost.

Only $1200 and I could make two payments a few weeks apart, if I needed to. Great, thanks. You're right. I don't have $1200 available right now, but I'm sure I'll have the full amount at my disposal in two weeks' time. That will give me time to rifle through my couch cushions for loose change and cash in that CD I've been meaning to get to for the last few months.

Nonetheless, I went for it. And immediately had buyer's remorse. I left the office after 1.5 hours with one less root in my mouth and far less money in my bank account. After doing some quick fuzzy math, I realized that I had to do the unthinkable. I telephoned my mother and asked her to return my "big" christmas gift and asked, instead, that my parents pay for one-half of my root canal. She declined. And that was it. Oh, wait, she did ask when I was getting a crown. What? I can't afford a crown! I just spent $1200!

Next, I telephoned my father. Not to ask for money, just to get some sympathy (and maybe have him come up with the idea of returning my gift for some dental money). I got no satisfaction. His comment? "That's life." I wasn't necessarily disappointed, since this is a lot nicer than I usually get when I bemoan my financial state. Never complain about money problems to a banker. Unless he's not your father. In that case, he'd be happy to help you.

Then, I headed to Tiki's shop to let her know the bad news. I could not pay her my remaining balance on the bang-up framing job for my diplomas. And then, the jaws of hell opened up, demons screamed, and the flames of eternal damnation raged so wildly that that my eyes teared up from the heat.

And then I got a hug. Thanks, Tiki. Maybe I can trade you some food stamps for the work? Or, I could get pregnant and give you my WIC vouchers. OK, it's not nice to make fun of poor people or public assistance. I'm sorry, Santa.

I got home and did some more math. Apparently, I'm not as destitute as I initially thought. It'll be a tight squeeze for the next month or two, but I'll probably survive. And I didn't get fired. Yea!!!!!