"No-one told us there would be fish in the sea. The children were startled."

[freckles_and_doubt]

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, 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.

Comments

[egadfly.livejournal.com]

Surely students assuming you were drunk would further enhance your already considerable mystique and street cred?

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Possibly if it were several magnums of champagne, cabana boys and a party in my office: mere crossed eyes and slurring is unattractive and comparatively dull. Besides, the Dean would find out and being reduced to a small pile of ash by her laser stare would not increase my street cred at all.

[veratiny.livejournal.com]

I feel your pain…I had a veneer on one of my secondary front teeth (ie not the feature front teeth…but one to the left). Which due to enthusiastic wrap eating and dedicated night grinding (I am so dedicated to the night grinding I once sprained my jaw…that took a years worth of pain, and six months on low dose anti-depressants and voltaren to heal) disintegrated four days before Christmas. I was in line for my regal head gear but first had to make it through the Christmas break with a temporary. Temporary lasted exactly 24 hours…just long enough to see the dentist leave for Bali (or the small pacific island he had purchased) where he was spending Christmas on my deposit for future dental work. Pain ensued…front tooth….exposed nerve…Christmas dinner…two day music festival. I become extremely well acquainted with clove oil…and smelt like nice old lady. Then they mismatched the colour…never trust a tooth prothesisist who works under artificial light…this is a lesson I learnt the hard way.

Couches sound perfect place in which to regain facial control…good luck with the continuing restoration to full biting capabilities!

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

I seem to remember a weekend away with you knocking back the clove oil... is this a recurring theme? Teeth, they're evil. Fact.

Recurrency...sigh!

[veratiny.livejournal.com]

I think that was the stilbaai weekend when I ripped a off a piece of my lip sleeping the hot sun in an un air conditioned car. The cure as I recall was tequila...the logic being that the alcohol would disinfect the wound and ultimately lead to oblivion.

Age and maturity (ha!) has apparently steered me to clove oil...an ultimately more sensible home remedy of dubious taste and odour. The taste of cloves is apparently as addictive as alcohol...I have caught myself putting cloves into more than just the curry and Christmas ham (trying to recapture the halcyon days)! Stir fry with cloves is quite good...if you get the ginger balance right.

[kadekraan.livejournal.com]

What is knitting chicklit?

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

In this particular case, Knitting and Pearls by Gil McNeil. It's the sequel to Divas Don't Knit, which was a book club book a couple of months back. Standard chicklitty fare (recently-widowed mother of two negotiates romantic life), except that she runs a knitting shop in a British seaside town. They're nicely written, often very funny, with a particularly good line in inconsequential dialogue. As I say: unrepentant. Currently badly in need of fluff.

Fluff

[bronchitikat.livejournal.com]

Anything with knitting in is probably good. Hey, you could include Miss Marple.

For that matter, if it's mohair that's all the fluff you'll ever need!

[kadekraan.livejournal.com]

Cool, thanks for the explanation :-)

[(Anonymous)]

Ah I was going to ask the same thing. Those are rather good, those two; the only knitlit books I've encountered that are actually bearable. Would like more. (Stay far, far away from the Friday Night Knitting Club.)

scroob