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My life currently has a sort of baroque inevitability about it. The whole orientation chaos/dislocated knee/root canal debacle took a slightly bizarre twist a few weeks back, when I was supposed to have the full root canal treatment plus a crown, which is called that because it's constructed from gold and diamonds and is an irreplaceable historical artefact, or at least priced like one. Except that I couldn't have the treatment because my dentist had fallen off his mountain bike and broken his wrist. (Possibly my mere presence in his surgery for the initial treatment imbued him with terminal klutziness).
The necessary delay of the process to mid-April, when at least I'm back from France, was rendered a little troublesome by the fact that an unduly venturesome wholewheat grain leaped out of a slice of toast about three days after the dentist's session and punctured a neat whole in the temporary filling, leaving it open to the elements. (I picture said psycho grain a bit like the revolving drill bits on the mole-creature machines in the end of The Incredibles, although this may be unduly paranoid). For the last few weeks the giant, gaping hole in the tooth has been slowly filling up with what I imagine to be the contents of a moderately successful grocery store. Fortunately the nerve is dead and the temporary filling included several litres of disinfectant stuff, so actual pain has not resulted; I've just been worried that whole civilisations may end up packed in there over time. They will inevitably rise and demand democracy and a chicken in every pot expensively in France or the UK, so I had them pre-emptively repressed. The nice dentist assuring me that (a) this wouldn't need local anasthetic, (b) oh, all right, just a little of the short-acting stuff and (c) gosh your face is all lopsided, and I've been drooling and slurring all afternoon, bunking one meeting and eventually going home early on the grounds that students were assuming I was drunk.
Once home, I rapturously re-made the acquaintance of the new couches, which once more I'd forgotten about, and spent the rest of the evening curled up reading knitting chicklit. (Which I've finished,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wolverine_nun, you can have it back. It rocked). I am completely and utterly unrepentant. I'm not jeopardising my new filling by biting students, and bugger the Shelf Of Unread Reproach.
In other news, Ridiculous Complaints Made By Holiday Makers. Including the one in the subject line. Good lord.
The necessary delay of the process to mid-April, when at least I'm back from France, was rendered a little troublesome by the fact that an unduly venturesome wholewheat grain leaped out of a slice of toast about three days after the dentist's session and punctured a neat whole in the temporary filling, leaving it open to the elements. (I picture said psycho grain a bit like the revolving drill bits on the mole-creature machines in the end of The Incredibles, although this may be unduly paranoid). For the last few weeks the giant, gaping hole in the tooth has been slowly filling up with what I imagine to be the contents of a moderately successful grocery store. Fortunately the nerve is dead and the temporary filling included several litres of disinfectant stuff, so actual pain has not resulted; I've just been worried that whole civilisations may end up packed in there over time. They will inevitably rise and demand democracy and a chicken in every pot expensively in France or the UK, so I had them pre-emptively repressed. The nice dentist assuring me that (a) this wouldn't need local anasthetic, (b) oh, all right, just a little of the short-acting stuff and (c) gosh your face is all lopsided, and I've been drooling and slurring all afternoon, bunking one meeting and eventually going home early on the grounds that students were assuming I was drunk.
Once home, I rapturously re-made the acquaintance of the new couches, which once more I'd forgotten about, and spent the rest of the evening curled up reading knitting chicklit. (Which I've finished,
wolverine_nun, you can have it back. It rocked). I am completely and utterly unrepentant. I'm not jeopardising my new filling by biting students, and bugger the Shelf Of Unread Reproach.In other news, Ridiculous Complaints Made By Holiday Makers. Including the one in the subject line. Good lord.
