I've taken to freaking out about my mail.

I came home and was excited to see that I had a handwritten (or so it appeared) letter waiting for me on the counter.  There wasn't a return address, so I paused a moment to consider the handwriting.  It wasn't from a girlfriend, because I know all of their handwriting. Well... only one way to find out who'd be sending me some delightful missive, so I turned it over, and tore into it expectantly. I opened it up to reveal a newspaper clipping.  Oddly, there was a post-it note attached with a simple message of, "Sasha, I love Dr. Prager- Give him a try! J."  My mind instantly raced with questions.  "Who in the hello is J?" And, "Why do they want me to visit this guy?"  "Have I done a blog on dentists lately?"  "Why no return address?"

I scanned the article about this dentist and quickly came up with my verdict. - I was being stalked by an orthodontist, somewhere.  And then I promptly freaked out.   (And if you think I'm kidding, you haven't been reading my blog very long.) Luckily, Adrain breezed in with his muscley forearms, and flipped through the mail pile.  When he saw my stricken eyes, he said, "Sash- it's not a weirdo- it's just an advertisement.  See? Compare the writing.  It's computer-generated. Relax."

But of course I didn't. 

I had to know for sure.  So I called the number in the "article."  When it reached a school district, I may or may not have, wet my pants.  But then I regrouped and dialed again, with area code.  And then I was directed to Dr. Prager's receptionist.

Poor girl. She never saw me coming.

I made her call the appropriate people to make sure that the "very creepy letter/advertisement ploy with no return address" had indeed come from them, while I waited on hold.  And when she confirmed it, rather sheepishly, I told her very politely, that this was by far, the creepiest form of advertising I'd even seen.  And that in case she'd missed it, I was rather creeped out by the entire experience of getting a newspaper clipping with post-it note and no return address, in the mail.  Because it was creepy.  

And then I got off the phone, stomped on the letter, and declared that I'd never visit Dr. Prager if he was the last dentist on the earth!!

To which Adrain looked up and calmly replied, "Yes you would."

Clearly, he does not know the bounds of my drama.

Or perhaps he just knows the bounds of my dental hygiene obsession. 

Please excuse me, I need to go floss.