(More off-topic rambling...)
Apparently, teeth have feelings of compassion...
In about an hour, I'm going to be making the short journey over to the School of Professionals Complementary to Dentistry (or, "The Dental School" for anybody not paid to answer their 'phones - how on earth their secretary can say that mouthful - pun intended - in under a second is anyone's guess...) for the purpose of having two wisdom teeth out. Ouch...
I was booked in to have these teeth out later this month, but one of them (which I managed to crack quite neatly in half chewing on un-popped popcorn a while ago) started hurting
a lot a couple of days ago.
"No problem" I thought, dosing up on an unhealthy amount of ibuprofen (and ignoring the complaints of my vital organs). But then the wisdom tooth directly below the broken one started hurting through the painkillers. And for no apparent reason whatsoever. I kid you not, it's almost like the little enamelled gnasher had decided (in some spirit of brotherly compassion for it's injured sibling on my upper jaw, no doubt), "I'm going to cause you a lot of pain, just because you broke my friend."
Gash.
So it's off to the dentist with me. I'm hoping to be able to come back to work afterwards and get on with work, but some how I suspect I might not be in any position to be getting on with anything other than curling up in a ball and crying like a baby as the anaesthetic wears off.
Of course, this means one of my main vices - endless tea and coffee drinking - is off the agenda for the time being, as well. Oh great...
(Abnormal service will be resumed shortly.)
