My significantly better half has a tooth anxiety. She has Teeth Dreams, where she'll bite a carrot and then all of her teeth will spill onto the floor. Or she'll look into the mirror and one of her incisors is a mushroom. She also worries about her teeth while she's awake. She'll ask me if I'll still love her if her teeth fall out. I always say, of course not. Today I was reading the introduction to Roberto Bolano's The Savage Detectives, and the writer mentions that Bolano had bad health and lost most of his teeth. I read her this short passage, which she found encouraging. You don't need teeth to live your dream.

There was a freezing rain most of the afternoon, and the sidewalks and road were slippery. On the way to the PO, there was a tow truck that had smashed into a brick wall in front of the housing towers on 31st Street. I was half-mad from working on grad school applications, and as I approached the PO, a woman told me the PO was closed. I yelled, "Why?" as if she were culpable. But she had walked away, and didn't hear me. I pulled on the handle anyway, and looked for any activity in the lobby. It was completely dark inside. My cheeks were cold, and I didn't feel like walking all the way back home without warming up first. On my way home I picked up the Bolano book I mentioned earlier, and that helped raise my spirits.